


To Solder An Abyss

by conceptofpeaches



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Apathy, Aromantic Character, Blood, Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Depression, Detox, Emotional Manipulation, Food, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Injured Characters, Injury, Julia Wicker is a Good Friend, Manipulation, Minor Kady Orloff-Diaz/Julia Wicker, Multi, No Beta, Quentin Coldwater being a jerk, Sanist Language, Shadeless Quentin Coldwater, Suicidal Thoughts, aromantic kady orloff-diaz, detainment, does this count as a fix it, post 4x13, quentin is a dick, season 5 never happened, we die llike men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25374664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofpeaches/pseuds/conceptofpeaches
Summary: Quentin Coldwater had died. Well, almost. All of his friends are glad to hear that he returned intact--except he wasn't. Something went wrong. Quentin wasn't Quentin anymore. Eliot Waugh is still pining for him, but has to watch as Quentin doesn't even regard Alice romantically anymore. Meanwhile, Julia is figuring out how to handle her emotions and use them to her advantage. The group has to find a way to get Quentin's shade back before he realizes his full and not so benevolent potential. Is this the origin of a darker timeline or can Quentin be returned to a state of completeness by those that love him?Or the fic in which Q is a dick but in a kind of funny antagonistic way and everyone else is stressed out.(This is a very rough draft. I WILL be revising it in the future and adding more content.)***CURRENTLY ON HOLD***
Relationships: Kady Orloff-Diaz/Julia Wicker, Margo Hanson/Josh Hoberman, Quentin Coldwater/Alice Quinn, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, William "Penny" Adiyodi/Julia Wicker
Comments: 41
Kudos: 72





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [This Post](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/651577) by asofterhibou. 



> This is probably not going to be as comedic as anticipated.
> 
> A warning; this does deal with fairly dark themes and the tags should be taken into account when reading this. Please tread carefully. If you are in crisis please reach out to your local emergency services or 1-800-273-8255
> 
> Stay safe. <3
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr for updates, complaining, and shitposting! proof-of-peaches.tumblr.com

Quentin felt warm. It felt like champagne was bubbling softly through his veins. He had been running. Running after Alice and Penny, away from the Seam. But his legs felt so warm and so tired suddenly. He didn’t feel like running. He felt everything slow down. Alice was shrieking, fighting off Penny and grabbing on to the doorjamb. Quentin was confused.  _ What was happening? Why was it happening? _

He fell, never feeling himself hit the hard flooring. He assumed that he closed his eyes, and Alice yelled something when he did. There was a lot of muffled noise. He couldn’t quite make it out before floating away. He always expected the darkness to be scary and unforgivingly cold, but it was comfortable. Quentin let himself drift. It felt like a nap.

He needed a nap.

Quentin was so tired.

He was tired of fighting to keep up with everyone and keep from collapsing. He was tired of messing up. He was just  _ tired _ . Finally, he could get some rest. He knew no one would bother him, this rest felt absolute. And it was painless.

That was nice.

He felt like he was flowing away in a river. It was peaceful and comforting. Quentin wanted to smile at how relaxed he was.

And then he felt like he was being sucked down a sink drain. It was dizzying. The darkness was floating away and he wanted to reach out for it, but he was caught off guard by the muffled noises coming from...somewhere.

Quentin jerked awake, gasping for breath and clutching the scratchy white linen under his hands. Everything smelled sterile and it was too bright. Too loud. He could hear the beeping of a monitor pick up. He looked around in confusion, eyebrows knit together quite intensely.

“ _ Quentin _ ,” A soft voice gasped. He looked up and watched as the blonde rushed to his side. He recognized her, and she was obviously someone of importance because she hugged him tight, gasping into his shoulder.

“Alice…” he croaked.  _ Well, that was an unpleasant noise. _

“Thank goodness, you’re okay.” The blonde, whom he now recognized as Alice Quinn, retreated, pushing her own hair behind her ears frantically. Her eyes were pink like she had been crying.  _ Did he make her cry? _ Quentin couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Um, yeah,” he responded, trying to sit up. He was in a thin white tee shirt and matching linen pants, just as scratchy as the bed and grating on his thighs as he dragged himself upward. His back felt tender, and he twisted a little, trying to find the source. “Ow.”

“Careful--”

“Try not to move too strenuously, Quentin,” Another woman ordered. She was petite with pixie-like features and carefully curled hair. She was in a lab coat, she was a doctor. Quentin realized it was Dr. Eleanor Lipson, Brakebills resident doctor. So, he was at Brakebills again. “You have burns on your back.”

“Burns?”

“They’re nearly healed, but there will be scar tissue and it  _ will _ be raw.” Dr. Lipson promised. Quentin didn’t mind, the feeling of them rubbing against his tee shirt was just irritating. Everything was too much. He could feel a very, very faint crackle in the air.

Alice was staring at him. Her face was contorted in concern, but Quentin remembered that it was a face she seemed to make at him a lot. He stared back at her, asking with his eyes  _ What? What is it? _

“I would have expected you to be a little more alarmed to wake up or-or-or even excited to see me.” She stated, distaste biting the edges of her voice.

Quentin raised his eyebrows and then glanced around for the answer to his next question, drawn out slowly so he could fit the words around his tongue, “Why would I have been either of those things?”

She looked at him as if he had hit her or committed an act of betrayal. Quentin’s memories were still kind of hazy, so it’s suffice to say that he was asking a serious question.  _ Why was she looking at him like that? _

“Q, you…”

Alice stopped, voice cracking with whatever emotion was crawling up her throat with the words. She looked down and took a deep, shuddering breath. When she exhaled, she looked up at him.

“Quentin, you died.”

Oh.

Well, that would be hard to explain to his therapist.

“How?” is all he could say, shaking his head as if he didn’t believe her.

“You really don’t remember?”

“No, I’m making you spell it out for me just for shits and giggles.” Quentin raised an eyebrow. Alice made that face again.

“At the Seam,” she tried urging the memories out of his brain. “After Everette… You sacrificed yourself, Q.”

Images flashed on the inside of his eyes. A mirror. Two jugs. Alice screaming. He could remember bits and pieces but he didn’t understand why he had done it. Whatever  _ it _ was.

“Well,” Quentin made a face, feigning concern for a moment. “That was stupid of me.”

“Yeah, you dumbass, it fuckin’ was.” Another man said from his other side. Quentin turned his head and squinted up at the new visitor. Penny, who--if Quentin remembered correctly--didn’t like him very much. Quentin wondered briefly if Penny had a stick up his ass or he did himself.

Alice looked between the two. Penny gave Quentin a cautious side eye before addressing Alice.

“Alice, c’mon,” he took a step away from Quentin. “Dean Fogg needs to talk to us.”

Alice nodded, “Okay.”

She fussed over Quentin for a moment, telling him that she would return. She kissed his cheek and left with Penny. The kiss felt very one-sided, and uncomfortable for Quentin. Alice, he recalled,  _ was _ his girlfriend. And then his ex.  _ And _ a Niffin. And then she was alive again. And then…

They were dating again, he guessed. He couldn’t really tell why. From what he remembered, there wasn’t anything particularly spectacular about Alice, other than her brain and shapely figure.

Quentin was bored.

He felt empty, like there was a hole in his chest. It was cold and kind of uncomfortable. Then again, everything since he had woken up was uncomfortable and annoying. He wished he had a book. He knew which book he should be wanting. The book that usually comforted him,  _ The World in the Walls _ , the first in the  _ Fillory and Further _ series written by Christopher plover--who Quentin was remembering as a whiny pedophile.

Quentin didn’t really need comfort at the moment, just entertainment.

_ Entertainment _ .

Memories of laughter and rowdy talking rang in his ears and he tasted the bitter aroma of pot. A beaming smile and long fingers offering him a martini. Quentin expected to feel something at that. He knew it was important, but the place where he would have felt yearning remained hollow and static.

_ God _ , he was bored.

“Quentin is  _ what _ ?” Eliot snapped, standing between Julia and Margo. The Dean of Brakebills, Henry Fogg, had his students gathered in his office. The older man looked up at Eliot and then around the room before his eyes finally fixated on Penny and Alice.

“Alice,” he droned. “The spell you casted is deemed dangerous for a reason.”

“I know, but--”

“You saved his body, but Quentin no longer has a shade, Ms. Quinn.” Dean Fogg stated with finality. Alice hid behind a curtain of her hair, glancing around guiltily. Eliot swallowed thickly and glanced at Julia, who--despite her strong stance and guarded expression--had paled at the news.

“We need to get it back.” Kady affirmed from beside the office door.

“Yeah, well no shit.” Margo crossed her arms over her chest. Eliot could tell she was as scared as the rest of the group, a crease between her eyebrows gave it away.

“I’m afraid that is a very risky thing to do…” Fogg tried to reason.

“We’ve done it once, we can do it before.” Julia replied. Eliot closed his eyes and sighed, shuffling around Julia to sit in one of the arm chairs across from the dean. His wounds were bothering him. He kept asking himself how Julia hadn’t had any flare-ups since she recovered enough to be mobile.

“Yes, and then you got blacklisted by the Underworld.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his migraine to leave.

“Yeah, Q and I,” Julia agreed. “And probably Alice, too. That doesn’t mean we can’t send someone else though.”

He wanted to volunteer immediately, but Eliot knew that his body wasn’t capable of adventures right now. He appreciated Julia’s passion and wanted to hug her. He just didn’t have the energy.

Margo spoke up: “I’ll go.”

“Me too.” Penny declared. Kady and Julia looked at him in alarm.

“No. Absolutely not.” Kady barked. “You know what happened to the last Penny that went to the Underworld.”

“Yeah, because he was  _ dead _ .” Penny retorted bluntly, not quite aggressive but not soft and gentle with the explanation either.

“So, it’s settled.” Margo moved her hands to perch on her hips. She always pounced before anyone else could. Dean Fogg let out a frustrated and heavy sigh. Eliot heard the office door slam shut as Kady left.

“Alright,” Julia sounded unsure, but knew she couldn’t control Penny or Margo. “We’ll game plan tomorrow. We can’t go into this like idiots.”

“Why didn’t the spell save his shade?” Eliot asked suddenly, looking up at Dean Fogg. The dean stared back at him, nodding solemnly like he was expecting this question.

“Quentin’s shade was the first thing that the Seam touched.” Fogg explained, folding his hands neatly in front of him and looking around the room at everyone. “Alice’s cast was able to reconstruct his physical form, but by the time his shade had a place to go, it was gone.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Julia asked. Alice walked up to sit in the chair beside Eliot. It made his skin crawl and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Penny repositioned himself to stand beside the desk.

“We will need to bind him.” Fogg closed his eyes. “He is too unstable at the moment to be casting magic.”

“I’m fine with that.” Penny shrugged. They all looked at him and he threw his hands up like it was obvious. “ _ What? _ In case you forgot, I come from a timeline where everyone is  _ dead _ because of Quentin.”

He looked directly at Julia. Eliot took it all in, feeling outside of himself. He wanted to visit Quentin, but according to Alice he wasn’t quite there yet. Eliot sighed, getting to his feet. He limped past Julia and shared a look with Margo as he passed.

“I’m tired” is all Eliot said before opening the door and making his way out into the rest of the House. Every fiber of his being was being pulled toward the infirmary, but he couldn’t do that to himself. Eliot needed to be alone.

Eliot needed a drink.


	2. Chapter 2

Quentin opted for laying in the infirmary bed, rolling his hand and snapping his fingers over and over. He found enjoyment in the tingle in his index finger whenever a flame bloomed from it. He repeated the motion until his wrist hurt. It was a familiar feeling, to use magic so casually and without uncertainty that it will run out on him.

He and his group of companions had thwarted the Order’s rather authoritarian plan to withhold a majority of magic from the rest of the population of magic users. Quentin remembered that while that was happening, he had also been diligently finding a way to rid his best friends’ bodies of two ancient godly evils. Eliot and Julia. He wondered if they were still alive.

If Eliot was alive.

When Quentin died, Julia was in the process of recovery but her chances seemed unpredictable. The wounds she sustained from the Ice Axes were apparently opening and closing, unable to decide whether she would survive or not. Eliot, on the other hand, Quentin had watched get torn into just before he travelled to the mirror realm. No one had given him any news of Eliot yet.

Maybe he was dead too.

That made something in Quentin uncomfortable. He knew he should be upset by the possibility. He didn’t feel anything but the remnants of an ache in his chest. He had felt numb before, but nothing like this.

When the feelings of soul sucking depression started in his early adolescence, it caused alarm for Quentin. He felt numb like there was cotton stuffed in his chest to insulate any positive emotion he felt; to muffle it and amplify his anxiety and self-hatred and doubt. He felt like he didn’t belong anywhere, like no one understood the suffocating feeling of nothingness in him.

Now he didn’t feel anything.

Quentin felt genuinely empty. There was no numbing of whatever he was supposed to feel, because it wasn’t there to be felt or numbed in the first place. Quentin felt absolutely void and incomplete, and it didn’t cause anything except for discomfort at the cavernous feeling in his chest. It felt cold and unforgiving. Was he just recovering from the whole being dead thing? Or was he actually missing something?

Footsteps echoed in the now quiet infirmary. The sun had set about an hour ago, and Alice still hadn’t returned. Quentin pondered why. He thought about the way Penny had looked at him, like he was dangerous. Not just that he was dangerous, but like Penny absolutely  _ knew _ that Quentin was dangerous.

Was he?

The footsteps grew louder. Quentin didn’t bother lifting his head.

“Do you want to tell me why you were looking at me like a feral animal?” he asked, staring up at the ceiling. There was no answer for a while.

“Q…” Julia said softly.

He lifted his head and stared at her, eyebrows quirked up a little. He was a little surprised to see her. When it sank in, which didn’t take long, he dropped his head again and sighed. Quentin started sitting up, Julia was already advancing to sit on the bed. She seemed weary like he would bite her.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hi.” Quentin deadpanned. He looked around, taking a deep breath. “So, you’re alive.”

“So are you.” She smiled. He shrugged like it didn’t matter that his best friend had survived deadly wounds and that he had been resurrected.

Julia frowned, worry plaguing her face. Quentin watched her before his mental acquisitiveness finally won.

“Why is everyone looking at me like I’m a weapon?” He asked.

This seemed to catch her off guard, and she looked away uncomfortably like she was guilty of a crime. Julia was quiet for a bit, but Quentin waited despite his patience dwindling until she finally answered.

“Q, you--  _ We _ lost your shade.”

Oh, that explained a lot.

“Jules,” he smirked at the absurdity, mostly out of habit. “How did you manage to lose my shade?”

“It just... _ wasn’t there _ .” She seemed to be getting distressed, fidgeting her hands in her lap. Quentin watched, knowing that this was the part where he was supposed to comfort her. He barely knew how to do that with his shade, how was he supposed to do it now? Tentatively, he placed a hand over hers, startling Julia. She looked at him in surprise and he just sighed, looking down at his hand on hers.

“Think of it this way: I don’t have debilitating depression now.” He cracked an amused smile. She looked uneasy and stood up to step away from the bed. Julia stared down at her shoes and took a deep breath.

She was frustrated. She missed her best friend.

“Quentin,” she said low and cautious, turning slowly to look at him. Julia’s eyes were dark and intense. “Fogg is gonna detain you.”

_ What? Why? _

“Jules, I’m not  _ dangerous _ .” His smile vanishes. This is bullshit. He just woke from the dead and already he was being fucked over again.

She glanced away as if she were remembering something. Quentin found it incredibly telling. Julia must have been thinking of when she had no shade. She furrowed her brows and practically whispered: “We don’t know that.”

The next morning was a nuisance, to say the least. Julia stayed in the infirmary all night, even when Quentin dozed off. He didn’t feel particularly tired but his body seemed to need the energy from regenerating during Alice’s spell and being resurrected. He was also pretty fucking hungry when he woke up.

What irritated Quentin the most is that Julia, Dr. Lipson, and Dean Fogg didn’t feed him before escorting him to Brakebill’s cells. They knew he didn’t have the energy or ability to fight back and simply led him through the campus. It was bright outside and Quentin had to blink away the sun. That irritated him too.

“So,” he sighed, trying to at least start some sort of conversation with his handlers. “What happens next? I rot and die in the dungeon? Seems pretty counterproductive if you ask me.”

Julia and Dr. Lipson shared a look. Dean Fogg was as candid as he was before Quentin died.

“At the moment, we are working on a magic suppressant so you may see your friends again,” he stated. “In the meantime, Margo and Penny will see to retrieving your shade.”

“Why?” Quentin scowled. He was fine the way he was, he thought. He wasn’t constantly doubting himself all the time, and there wasn’t the pervasive feeling of self-loathing to tug at the back of his mind all of the time. “I’m fine.”

Dean Fogg resisted the urge to state otherwise. That Quentin was a potential threat to Magicians everywhere. That in another timeline, Quentin had become a villain without his shade. It was not a risk that he was willing to take.

Quentin just walked between Lipson and Fogg, suling like a teenager being dragged on a family outing. They didn’t seem to understand that he was perfectly fine, and it was making the empty space in his chest burn with frustration. For someone who wasn’t supposed to feel so much, he was sure feeling a lot more than he was comfortable with.

“Q,” Julia piped up, forcing some joviality into her voice and step. “When you can come back to the Cottage, maybe we can throw a celebration or something. Play games or movies.”

“Yeah, sounds like quite the party, Jules.”

She slumped a little and went quiet again. He knew he was supposed to feel guilty, but he couldn’t find it anywhere in him. He just felt increasingly annoyed about the situation.

They arrived at the far entrance of the House, sectioned off from the rest of the building so there was only one way to get to the stairway into the dungeon-like basement. Dean Fogg opened the door for the other three to enter and together they all descended. It smelled dusty, in the way a barn smelled dusty. There was no scent of mildew or moisture, which was nice. Quentin usually sneezed when mildew was near him for long periods of time.

The group travelled down the long corridor at the bottom of the stairs, huddled together. He remembered this section of the basement being talked about in his first year at Brakebills. It’s where Martin Chatwin--as Mike--killed Eliza, and Eliot killed Mike.

Dean Fogg ushered Quentin into a cell. The smell of fresh paint attacked his nose and he realized they must have freshened the ward sigils. The floor looked dusty and gross as usual, though, so where was…

Quentin looked up, where a large and intricate alchemical sigil was painted and burned into the wood cross beams. He decided that it was clever that they did that. The door closed behind him.

He turned around and caught Julia’s eyes between the bars of the door’s window. They were apologizing. Quentin couldn’t care less.

Julia was exhausted as she exited the House and followed the pavement of the sidewalk into a courtyard tucked in the trees bordering the campus’s lawn. She sat down on a bench and drew in a shaking breath. A group of Illusion students sat across the courtyard from Julia, too focused on some spell that shaped bubbles into goofy balloon animal shapes. They must be first years.

She closed her eyes and hunched forward, putting her face into her hands. She wanted to cry. She wanted to storm the Underworld herself and demand Quentin Coldwater’s shade be  _ brought to her _ . Julia was hurt.

Everyone was hurt, and it was selfish of her to exclude them in acknowledging the painfulness of the situation. She wanted to focus on herself for a moment, however. She wanted to honor her feelings even if it was just for five minutes in this small alcove. The air was a comfortable kind of warmth and it reminded her of the warmth of Our Lady Underground, the few times they had interacted and Julia wasn’t absolutely fucking pissed.

Julia inhaled the warmth and sat up, grounding herself. Her magic still hadn’t returned. It was infuriating. That didn’t mean, however, that Julia couldn’t continue to heal herself and others. She had spent the night researching breathing exercises and yoga and therapists. It sounded hokey, but Julia was starting to feel like she was suffocating.

The woman closed her eyes and drew in another breath, not ignoring her heartache. She had learned to stop doing that. When she still had the ability, accepting her pain translated into raw power that she learned to harness. Julia took another breath. She remembered that she had learned to start doing this when all of the magic had been shut off and she was left with a small seed. A spark that she fed with pure emotion and learned to control on her own.

Julia took another breath.

“Hey!” a voice called. “ _ Hey! _ ”

Julia opened her eyes and saw one of the illusionists waving at her. A huge grin was on their face as they sauntered over. They sidestepped a sapling in the center of the courtyard.  _ Had that been there before? _

“That was so cool! What year are you?” The illusion student asked gesturing to the sapling when they stopped in front of Julia. She stood up and glanced between it and the student. They had an enchanted look on their face like they had just witnessed, well,  _ magic _ . “When do they teach you that?”

“Teach me--?” Julia stammered. “I’m sorry, I-I’m not enrolled here… What did who teach me?”

The illusionist scoffed as if Julia were pranking them, and they pointed at the sapling.  _ Had Julia done that? _ She slowly pushed past the now concerned looking Illusion student. The sapling had pushed up through the paving stones and was a bright, fresh green, still wet with growth. She reached out and rubbed a leaf between her fingers. The tips of her fingers prickled and Julia found a smile creep onto her face.

Her hike across campus to the Cottage was quick, but long enough for Julia to become frustrated when she couldn’t do any spells. No sparks or fire or even glowing. She found herself starting to doubt whether she had grown that sapling or not. Maybe it was a mean joke played by the Illusion student.

When Julia got to the Cottage, she sighed, unsure if she was ready to plan with everyone. She knew she had to, magic or not.

Eliot was sprawled out in his old bed, still in his suit and shoes. He was snoring softly and his face was shoved into his pillow.  _ How sexy _ .

Margo stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. She was just glad he had gotten some sleep finally. Even if it was prompted by--she counted the bottles--three bottles of shitty pinot noir. She uncrossed her arms and sighed, walking forward to clean the bottles up and shake her best friend.

“El,” she hollered to ensure he heard her. “ _ El _ , wake up. Julia’s here.”

He stirred briefly.

“Jesus christ, Eliot.  _ Wake up _ .” Margo shook him again. “Come on, you’re not even supposed to be sleeping on your stomach.”

“Gimme a second, Bambi.” she heard him mumble from his pillow. He must have woken when she first tried to rouse him.

“Julia’s here for our team meeting.”

“I heard you.”

They were quiet for a moment. Eliot didn’t move. He just stared at the wall, ignoring the cramping of his neck and the soreness of his abdominal stitches. Margo set the wine bottles down and sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the back of his thigh.

“I know it’s hard, El.”

“Oh, you spent a lifetime with him, remembered said lifetime, turned him down, got possessed, came to terms with your amorous feelings for him, and then escaped the possession of an evil god baby only to find out he was dead, resurrected, and shadeless?” He sighed and turned his head to look at her sadly. Margo pursed her lips and wanted to swat at his ass for being an ass. Eliot looked away guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She reached up to pet his hair. He slid his eyes closed gratefully. God, he looked exhausted.  _ When did they all get so exhausted? _ “You’re hurting and need to process your feelings...or whatever.”

“I also need help getting up and getting dressed.”

They both smiled a little.

When Eliot was on his feet, in clean clothing, and had his torso wiped clean of any dried blood, Margo helped him slowly get down the stairs. He watched his feet carefully, hoping his knees didn’t give out on him. Julia watched from the entryway and then stepped forward as if to catch him once he got down the last few steps. They looked at one another and smiled sadly.

Julia awkwardly gestured to the dining room.

“Josh made, uh, breakfast-egg-muffin-y things, I guess?” She hugged herself, giving a more genuine smile.

Josh called from the kitchen: “They’re called  _ quiche bites! _ ”

“ _ Right _ .” She giggled softly. Margo and her exchanged glances as if trading the overseeing of Eliot Waugh. Margo climbed the stairs to retrieve the wine bottles from her room. Julia linked her arm through Eliots and led him into the dining room and helped him sit across from the fireplace. Breakfast was not extravagant, but Josh had used the Physical Kids’ “good dishes” which were actually just mismatched china.

It brought a small smile to Eliot’s face, reminding him of his younger years at Brakebills when  _ he _ was the host for these kinds of gatherings. It reminded him of the year he and Margo hosted a “Misfit’s Dinner” for Thanksgiving. Students from across the campus who didn’t go home for the holidays had arrived at the Cottage for dinner. Granted, it was a spread of pizza and breadsticks with wine and cocktails, but it still warmed Eliot’s heart to think about.

He wished Quentin had been there.

Julia took a seat beside Eliot, between him and Kady. Penny was already across from them. Josh kept wandering in to look at the table and then back out to check on the bacon frying on the stove. When Margo joined them, Alice was timidly bringing orange juice into the dining room in a large plastic pitcher.

“It’s freshly squeezed” is all she said before she sat beside Penny, at the opposite end of the table from Eliot. She kept her head down the entire time. He hadn’t seen her this shy since she was a first-year and just learning how to explode the Cottage door.

Josh hurried in with a platter of bacon and sausage and a tray piled with a variety of toasted bread products. The two dishes joined the tiered platter of mini quiches, the basket of muffins, and the pots and saucers of spreads. A coffee pot sat at one end of the table beside a pot of tea and a pitcher of water sat beside Alice’s orange juice.

Okay, it was a little extravagant.

Josh sat down and glanced at everyone’s impressed and hungry faces. He didn’t quite smile, but there was a proud twinkle in his eye when he spoke, “My mom always said ‘carbs are best when you’re sad.’”

Eliot’s stomach churned.

“I...don’t think she was wrong,” Julia raised her eyebrows and then smiled at Josh kindly. “Thank you for doing all of this.”

He nodded bashfully, reaching across the corner of the table to hold Margo’s hand. She had sat at the head of the table adjacent to Eliot’s seat.

“Well?” Kady looked around. “Let’s dig in.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for some suicidal tendencies.

“So,” Josh sat back in his chair and sighed in satisfaction, patting his belly softly. “What’s the game plan?”

“Easy,” Penny leaned his elbows on the table, looking around. “Margo and I get in, grab Quentin, and dip.”

“ _ Not easy _ .” Kady stated, a ferocious intensity in her voice.

“Kady’s right, Penny,” Julia agreed. “There are levels to the Underworld.”

Eliot stared at his half eaten plate, silent and not one hundred percent paying attention. How could he? He felt tired and heavy, like his head was filled with a wet quilt. He felt miserable but at the same time he couldn’t even name exactly what he was feeling.

“Well, which level is Q’s shade going to be on?” Alice asked, looking up and speaking for the first time since the group had served food. She didn’t seem to remember any of what her shade had seen in the Underworld.

“The shades are all kept in the Elysium distinct.” Julia answered. She held a finger up to say  _ one moment _ and stood up. She walked off to go find something.

“El,” Margo leaned forward, giving Eliot a worried look. She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Are you okay?”

He snapped out of the haze he was in and glanced at her. All it took was that tired and haunted glance for her to understand and lean back and nod. Julia returned with a sheet of paper and a pencil. They all glanced at one another as she sat back down and started sketching out a map. The room was quiet for a while, filling with the sound of Julia’s pencil scratching against the paper vigorously.

“So,” she tapped her pencil in one spot. “This is where you enter the Underworld--an elevator into a lobby, uh, Underworld Meadows or something.”

“How  _ avant-garde _ .” Eliot muttered, watching Julia point out directions.

“Q and I had to sign in and then wait, but I was able to get us to, um,” she shook her head, trying to think of an explanation. “To this, uh, like personal heaven kind of place. Richard and some other friends of Kady and I were there.”

Kady tensed and looked away for a moment to breathe and refocus.

“Is that where the shades are kept?” Penny asked.

“Uh, no,” Julia pointed to another spot on the opposite side of the page. “ _ Elysium _ . This is where the shades are kept. You might need to split up so one of you can distract the officials while another sneaks over to Elysium.”

Margo raised an eyebrow and looked directly at Penny, “I’m going to have to be the distraction. If you stay anywhere too long, they’ll snatch you and we’ll both be fucked.”

Penny nodded slowly. Julia looked up at him too.

“Do you think you could travel back to the lobby with Quentin’s shade and get into the elevator with Margo as fast as you can?” She gave him a look to emphasize how dire it was that he be fast.

“Once I know what the lobby looks like, it’ll be easy.” Penny confirmed.

“Great,” Kady shrugged. “Now what do we do about Dick Quentin?”

Eliot’s skin burned with annoyance at that comment. He wanted to yell.

“It’s not like we can tattoo Reed’s Mark on him.” Penny sighed. Josh furrowed his eyebrows and rubbed his chin.

“It’d be cool if you could get temporary sigil tattoo--”

“That’s it!” Alice interrupted Josh, throwing her head up to look at everybody.

Margo’s face contorted in distasteful shock, “Those  _ exist? _ ”

“No.” Penny scoffed.

Something seemed to light up on Josh’s face and he joined the excitement. He seemed to have realized what Alice had. He grinned wide and looked around at everybody.

“ _ Henna _ ,” the two of them said together. Everyone seemed to finally comprehend what was going on, lightbulbs went off around the table. Penny looked dumbfounded, surprised that he himself hadn’t thought of that.

“Would that work?” Julia wondered aloud.

“I mean,” Kady leaned her elbows on the table and pursed her lips. “Only one way to find out.”

Eliot looked down and then nodded slowly, “I think we might have some somewhere in the Cottage.”

Nobody questioned why, knowing the parties and festivals that Eliot and Margo used to attend constantly. Body paint, tattoos, henna art, and even experimental piercings were not a surprise. Even outside of those activities, henna made some spells a lot more fun and painless. And temporary.

Julia cleared her throat, “Okay, so while Margo and Penny retrieve Q’s shade…”

“I have to go back and help Fen run Fillory.” Josh stated.

“Josh goes to Fillory, Kady--”

“I need to go keep being the big bad Hedge Bitch.”

“Right.” Julia smiled. “And Alice, Eliot, and I will babysit Quentin.”

They all agreed on the plan. The whole thing was effective immediately.

Sitting in a dirty, basement dungeon gave Quentin time to think. He was extremely bored. This had to be some obscure form of torture someplace, he thought. Severe tedium  _ had _ to have been banned in the Geneva Convention.

It gave him time to catch up to speed on what he couldn’t remember, though. Quentin spent the afternoon peeling hay strands apart and silently thinking about Fillory. How dark and perilous it had actually turned out to be. It made his chest tighten, filled with a longing to go back. He wasn’t sad or happy, but he  _ wanted _ . All he could feel was an intense desire to go back to Fillory; fulfill his childhood dreams and assigned role to be king.

Fillory was the only place that ever seemed right when he was younger. When he felt alone and out of place, it always seemed like it was the only place he actually belonged. Now, instead of getting verklempt about it, he felt challenged. It felt like a mission now that he knew that there was an actual destination instead of some fantasy he would continue to obsess over for decades.

When it hit about noon or one, Quentin heard the sound of the doors open down the corridor and at the top of the stairwell. The footsteps that followed were mixed. One set was heavy and brisk, the other was more carefree and soft. It must have been Dean Fogg and Julia again. There was a third set, though. It was quick and sharp, the sound of heels hitting the concrete.

Quentin stood up, disbelief running through him.

Margo peered in through the window of the door at him. Slowly, he walked forward until they were staring one another in the eyes through the bars.

“I’m only saying this because you don’t have the capability to feel sorry for yourself right now,” she raised her eyebrows, lowering her voice. “But you put El through  _ fucking hell _ .”

_ Oh. _

“Eliot’s alive?”

“Of course he’s fucking alive, ya limpdick.” Margo responded. A small smile tugged at Quentin’s lips. “I wasn’t about to let him die. I was expecting you to come back and suck his dick or whatever.”

He sighed and looked away, raising his eyebrows and rubbing his hips to slide his hands into his pockets. There were no pockets in these pants though, so his hands awkwardly resumed hanging at Quentin’s sides.

“I can still do that.” He said casually.

“Excuse me, Margo.” Julia said from behind her. Margo moved while Fogg unlocked the heavy door. He opened it just enough for Julia to slip into the cell. Quentin took a step back to give her space.

“You know,” Quentin watched her reach into her back pocket and pull out a small piping bag of something. His voice was serious like he was about to share urgent news. “Their oatmeal really isn’t that great here.”

Julia huffed out a small laugh.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t have any peanut butter or anything in it.” She held out her free hand. “Give me your arm.”

He obliged, holding his arm up with his wrist in the air. Julia ripped the foil tip off of the piping bag, which Quentin now identified as henna.

“You put peanut butter in your oatmeal?” Quentin made a face of disgust. She laughed again, beginning to gently squeeze the henna paste onto Quentin’s forearm. He watched her hands, following each sharp corner and precise curve of the mark staining his skin.

She was careful and the intricate design was barely a challenge for her. Julia Wicker was good at everything. Ever since Quentin and her were kids, she was an overachiever. She was afraid to fail and never accepted anything below her highest potential, whatever that happened to be. At one point her highest potential was Goddesshood. Our Lady of the Trees.

“You know I’m not gonna hurt you, Jules.”

She glanced up at him, a dark look of warning. He just stared down at her. Julia’s hand had paused in her ministrations, and Quentin was tempted to rip his hand away and ruin the work she had done. He knew that would just trap him in the cell longer than necessary.

“I remember what it was like, Q,” she continued, looking back down at the design. She was almost finished. “To have no apathy. Knowing when I should feel something but didn’t. The urges that came with the bliss of no moral compass.”

Quentin smirked at that, exhaling as an empty laugh died in his throat. He was getting annoyed. He wanted to leave.

“You think I have no morals?”

“You have morals, Q.” Julia didn’t look up as she drew the last line. “Just...not right now.”

He grabbed her wrist, wrenching a small gasp out of her. Julia looked up in alarm to meet Quentin’s intense glare. The muscle in his jaw jumped. He drew in a sharp breath.

“I want to see Eliot.”

“Quentin, you’re hurting me.” Julia’s voice shook ever so slightly.

“Let me out.” He murmured in a low and threatening tone. “Julia--”

“Q, you’re hurting me!” Julia yelled, yanking her arm away and stepping backward. The look she gave Quentin sent a shock through him. The hair on his neck prickled.

He took a step forward. She took a step backward.

Quentin smiled.

The door swung open--well, as much as a dungeon door  _ could _ swing. Margo barged in and pulled Julia backward by the elbow. She stood behind Quentin and the ex-goddess.

“Touch her like that again, and I’m cuttin’ your dick off, Coldwater.”

He threw his hands up in surrender and took a few steps back again. Margo eyed him before nudging Julia and stepping out of the cell with her. When the door closed and locked with a deep  _ ka-chunk _ , Margo looked at him through the bars again.

“I don’t think seeing El is a good idea right now.” She simply said. Quentin stared at her, placing his hands behind his back. 

His lips curled in the ghost of a smile, “I wonder how he would feel about that.”

Eliot sat on the couch, nursing a tumbler of bourbon. He stared blankly into the space before him, not even really thinking anything. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t even really want to  _ be _ .

“You look like shit.”

He didn’t even look at Alice as she sat down beside him and smoothed her skirt down. She was on the other side of the sofa, pressing herself into the arm rest as if repelled by Eliot.

“I try.” Eliot smiled bitterly. He took another drink of his whiskey and sighed, glancing at her. His features softened. “You okay?”

Alice looked back at him and shrugged, shaking her head, “N-not really, but what’s new?”

They were quiet again and resumed staring anywhere other than at each other. Eliot always got a headache around her. He knew that it was unfair to be angry at her, but the twisted parts of his brain blamed her. She and Quentin had gotten back together, which he tried not to be jealous about. She lost his shade when she casted that spell and Eliot tried to be reasonable about that too. If it weren’t for her, Quentin wouldn’t be here still anyway--shade or not.

“How was he?” Eliot finally asked.

Alice was silent for a few beats.

“Indifferent.  _ Alive _ .”

“Well,” he took another drink, “I’m sure if he could feel the complexities of genuine human connection and love, he would be happy to see you.”

“I don’t know.” Alice bowed her head to hide behind her head again. Eliot looked at her, curiously. “You were the one he died for.”

Eliot scoffed, his disbelief evident.

“He…” she didn’t sound upset. She sounded sad yet like she was genuinely trying to comfort him. “He loved  _ you _ , Eliot.”

That wasn’t comforting. It hurt.

“After I turned him down? Told him to fuck right off?” The tired man laughed coldly, like Alice had just told a mean joke. She may as well have had. “Yeah.  _ Sure _ .”

She just stared at him. Eliot frowned and looked away.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“He probably still does, Eliot.”

“Shit.” Eliot jerkily rests his head on his knuckles, rolling his eyes. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re failing miserably.”

Alice went silent and it took a moment for her to stand up and leave. Eliot’s head was pounding, and his abdomen was aching and stinging. He slowly got to his feet and limped his way to the ground floor bathroom. Eliot didn’t even bother turning the light on.

He set his glass on the counter, rifled in one of the vanity drawers, and procured an orange medicine container from it. He ran his thumb over the label.  _ Oxycodone _ . It sat in his hand for a while as he just stared at the words. The warnings.

“He wanted to see you.”

Eliot turned around. Margo leaned on the door jamb, arms crossed over her chest. She was staring up at him as if he wasn’t just drinking and now holding a bottle of narcotics in his hand. He put the container down on the counter with the glass of whiskey.

“ _ Very _ psycho. I may have threatened to castrate him.” She continued, pursing her lips. Eliot didn’t say anything. He was too tired to have a witty response. He just looked away, leaning awkwardly on his cane. Margo’s face loosened a little, becoming gentle and worried.

She walked forward and took his hand, gazing up at him. Eliot looked back down at her. When she pulled him forward, he followed her back out to the love seat and sat with her.

“We’re gonna fix this, El,” she patted his knee softly.

“Please don’t die on me too.” Eliot almost whispered, keeping his eyes cast downward.

“I won’t,” Margo pressed into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. “I promise.”

Quiet, again. That’s all Eliot was these days. He just sat and thought. Or tried not to think. It was getting monotonous and numbingly painful to keep up with.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with Fen and Josh?”

Eliot shook his head, “I can’t. Fillory...it-it’s…”

“Reminds you of him?”

“Yeah.”

Margo squeezed his arm. They just sat for a long time. It wasn’t the same. Everything had changed so much in the last few years, and the Cottage was more muted these days. The lighting used to be warm and vibrant, but now it was gothic and stormy all the time inside.

Then again, maybe it had always been that way.


	4. Chapter 4

Margo and Penny left the next morning with snacks Josh had packed them for the quest before he left the evening before. Kady and him left earlier than Margo and Penny, simply because Margo wanted to make sure Eliot got out of bed in the morning. He at least got out of his clothing and laid on his back when he went to bed, which was a step in the right direction.

Now, Eliot was hunched at the dining room table, a bowl of soggy cereal and an orange in front of him. Julia was sitting beside him, a book open in front of her. She glanced over and closed the old book. He seemed catatonic at this point, the only movement was his shoulders rising and falling with slow, shallow breath.

“Eliot,” she put a hand on his arm, rousing him from his trance. He still hadn’t changed out of his pajamas, which was really just a pair of silky, busy looking harem pants that he had in his old dresser from before his crowning. His eyes dragged their way to her. “Please try to eat.”

He looked down at the down and then back at her, “Can I get something less...wet?”

Julia smiles softly and nods, standing up and taking his bowl to the kitchen. Eliot watches her leave and looks down at the peeled orange on the saucer in front of him. Reluctantly, the man reached forward and gingerly took a section of orange to place in his mouth. It was extremely sweet and made the sides of his tongue hurt. The pain made his jaw lock up and he had to force himself to chew properly, though slow.

He swallowed.

Took a bite of another section.

Julia returned and placed a plate of toast and fried eggs in front of him. The edges of the eggs were crispy and browned, but it still unknotted some tension in Eliot’s chest. It was nice to have homemade meals again.

“Will you need help...uh…” Julia gestured at him. Eliot found it in him to smile a little, mostly grateful for her concern.

“I can get dressed myself.” He assured her. She nodded and sat back down. Julia watched Eliot nibble at his breakfast for a little bit. It made him kind of uncomfortable, so he finally set his half eaten slice of toast down. “What?”

“Sorry,” she glanced away, playing with her hair awkwardly. “I’m just… It’s nice to see you take care of yourself.”

She remembered how badly he struggled in the early stages of recovery and knowing where Quentin had gone and what he had done. Eliot needed a wheelchair most of the time, and had a lot of trouble practicing self care and hygiene. Margo and her had to keep an eye on him to make sure he stayed safe.

“It doesn’t feel nice.”

Julia nodded, placing her hand on his arm again, “I know. It’s okay.”

“Um,” Eliot played with the half-eaten toast, flicking the hardened crust off of it onto the plate. “When is he...going to be released?”

“Fogg is gonna confirm that the tattoo is sealed and correct, and then Dr. Lipson is gonna walk him here.” Julia answered. “We have a lot of time to get ready.”

“Okay,” he stared down at his meal, mouth dry and stomach too stubborn to work an appetite up. “I might take a nap.”

“Go for it.”

Eliot nodded and lifted the toast to take another bite. It balled up into a dry lump in his mouth as he chewed. He finally worked it down and pushed his plate away, “I think I’m done.”

“I’m proud of you, Eliot.”

He felt sick. Silently, he stood up and shuffled out of the dining room. Julia listened to his heavy footsteps as he ascended the stairs, slowly--and painfully, she could imagine. She sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she reached out and took a section of the orange.

She turned it over and over in her hand curiously. Julia ate it and thought to herself for a moment. She was still extremely curious about the sapling she had supposedly grown in the courtyard. Maybe…

The woman sighed and held her hands out. Looking down at them, she really hoped that she could pull this off. With a small movement and a soft mutter of  _ işik _ , her fingers flashed. The sparks bounced across the surface of the dining room table before dying out.

She did it again. It was a little weaker this time.

“ _ Holy shit _ ,” Julia muttered. A smile crept across her face as soon as she grasped what exactly was happening. Again, she performed a First Flash. She kept going until the sparks ran out, excitement bubbling up in her chest.

It was time for lunch when Eliot woke up again. His stomach was groaning ravenously for something more to eat. He didn’t move, however. He just laid in his bed and stared at the cracks and pinholes in the wall.

The room was cluttered, untouched since he and the others had gone to Castle Blackspire. How many times had he blacked out in this room after a long night of partying or fucking? He didn’t have the energy to even make an educated guesstimate. Too many times, he’d assume. It was a sharp and painful reminder of just how  _ not okay _ he had been for so long. Only two people seemed to genuinely alleviate those feelings of not okayness.

Margo, of course.

And Quentin Coldwater.

Quentin was dorky and awkward and kind of pretentious, but in an endearing _ “he-doesn’t-realize-how-obvious-it-is”  _ kind of way. As soon as Eliot saw Quentin up close on the lawn of Brakebills, he just wanted to  _ impress _ him and then  _ keep _ impressing him. He wanted to be an even better party host. And then the guy was assigned to the Physical Kids’ Cottage, to live under the same roof as Eliot.

The day Eliot found out and started rigging the door, he needed a bar of Xanax just to calm his nerves.  _ And then _ he had realized just how much he adored Quentin. Eliot was given opportunity upon opportunity to do things right.

But he didn’t.

And now Quentin was coming back to the Cottage, and Eliot was simply laying in a bed of self-pity.

He needed to start fighting back for Quentin.

“Get the fuck up, Eliot Waugh,” Summoning his inner Margo, Eliot fought himself to sit up and get out of bed. His curls tumbled down in front of his eyes and he immediately raked a hand through them, pushing them back only for his hair to rebelliously fall back into his vision.

Successfully, Eliot sat up slowly and then gently got his legs over the edge of his mattress. His muscles ached and needles stabbed him in the belly to--quite obnoxiously--beg him for a meal. He figured that maybe this was his chance to be a good host again.

Pushing himself up to a standing position, Eliot stood still to make sure he wasn’t about to have a total Life Alert moment. Stiffly, he dragged himself to his closet and very slowly he was able to get himself decently dressed in a polo shirt and cropped trousers. There was no way he could bend down to tie his shoes so he opted for some slip on moccasin slippers.

Well, he looked...adequate.

Carefully, Eliot limped downstairs to the ground floor of the Cottage. It was quiet. Julia must have left because she wasn’t in the dining room anymore, and she wasn’t in her favorite reading spot; the bench in the front window. The breakfast dishes were cleared from the table which made Eliot feel a little guilty for his current state of limited mobility and stamina.

A door opened from upstairs and Alice’s quick footsteps made their way down the stairs. She found Eliot in the kitchen reaching for a plate from a cabinet above the sink. He paused, glanced at her, and grunted something that sounded like “hi.”

“Let me, um…” Alice fidgeted with her hands for a moment before stepping forward to grab the plate for him. She grabbed one for herself too.

“Uh, thanks.” Eliot held the small yet heavy plate in his hands. He was pretty sure it had been stolen from a restaurant, but couldn’t remember. All of the dishes in the Cottage were mismatched. For instance, Alice’s was a chipped white, plastic disk and Eliot’s was a thick vermillion clay saucer.

The two worked in silence, gathering things from around the kitchen.

“What are you gonna make?” Alice asked, obviously trying to start conversation like they both weren’t depressed over the same guy having no ability to feel empathy or connection.

“Uh, sandwiches?” Eliot replied. He sounded unsure, mostly because he didn’t know what exactly he could make a sandwich with. They didn’t have much in the way of deli meat. “You?”

She shrugged, plucking a bruised pear from a large bowl on the counter. She examined it and then put it back. Alice looked just as lost as Eliot felt.

“Here,” he took her plate from her delicately. “Let me make some lunch for us.”

“O-okay. Thank you.”

They stood in silence for a while. Eliot wound up making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He cut up a few pears and apples from the fruit bowl too. He made four plates in case Julia came back hungry and Quentin got to the Cottage craving something to eat. Eliot kind of hoped Quentin might accept the offer. The thought was comforting.

Alice and Eliot moved to sit on the couch for lunch. When they sat down Alice smiled a little in amusement at the sandwiches as if they were silly. She managed a teasing comment about the simplicity of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

“I save the extravagance for my margarita shaker, I’m afraid.” Eliot was able to shoot back, carrying a hint of his old casual sarcasm. It made Alice laugh quietly which brought a small smile to Eliot’s lips. It almost felt normal despite the gray and coldness that had infested the Cottage in his absence.

“Thank you, Eliot.”

He shrugged, taking a small bite of his sandwich. It tasted like sand and turned to paste in his mouth. Alice had decided to start with an apple slice. They ate quietly for a while, both slow and too deep in their thoughts.

The patio door opened and closed, and from the kitchen a small “ _ oh _ ” could be heard. Julia joined the two in the living room with an ugly aubergine plate with curved edges. Was it a deep plate or a shallow bowl?

“Was this out for--”

“It’s yours.” Eliot answered before Julia could finish her question. Alice was quietly eating.

“Thank you guys.”

That’s what Eliot appreciated about Julia, she was fair in acknowledging the things that people did for her. He wasn’t a huge fan of her upon their first meeting behind the hedge witch safehouse years ago, but she has grown to be one of the stronger people he knew. He could see why Quentin had loved her so much.

Now, he wasn’t so sure what Quentin felt.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the Cottage door. Julia immediately placed her plate on the coffee table and started toward the front door. Eliot slowly stood up, not willing to twist around and rip his stitches.. Alice didn’t move, the look on her face was one of nausea and anxiety. Eliot could definitely relate.

Julia opened the door for Quentin and Dr. Lipson to step inside. Snooping around the corner of the bar wall, Eliot watched curiously. Quentin didn’t look much different than usual, except maybe a little taller. He wasn’t hunched over like he was trying to disappear. Dr. Lipson and Julia were having a discussion that Eliot was definitely not paying attention to. The two women moved into the dining room.

“Q…” Eliot breathed, stepping further around the partition. Quentin stared at him, and Eliot’s chest tightened at the look he was receiving. It was unreadable, but Quentin’s eyes were dark like he might eat the man. 

Eliot wanted to reach out and hug him. He wanted to bury his face in his hair and breathe in the familiar, comforting scent of Quentin Coldwater. His muscles started screaming from the ache of his wounds and the pure want he felt to just hold this man and solidify the idea in his head that Quentin was in fact  _ alive _ .

“Hi” is all Quentin said before walking forward while giving Eliot the most obvious look over he could.

“Uh,” Eliot was at a loss for words, gulping down his anxiety. “Yeah,  _ hi _ .”

This is when Alice decided to take a spot beside Eliot. Her hands fidgeted at her sides. Quentin’s eyes glanced between the two and he huffed out an unamused laugh.

“Well,” he smirked. “This is awkward.”

Alice and Eliot shared a look before looking back at their (?) ex ( _? _ ). Quentin just stared at the two of them and then shrugged, turning around and making his way up the stairs. Eliot stood in his spot until he heard the door to Quentin’s bedroom shut. When it did, he exhaled, nearly collapsing from vertigo. He hadn’t realized he had even been holding his breath.

“That was awkward.” Alice sighed, crossing her arms.

Lipson left after conversing with Julia about the situation they found themselves in. Julia wandered around the first floor of the Cottage, looking for Eliot and Alice. They had gone back to isolate in their rooms. She retrieved the remaining plate of food from the kitchen and then went upstairs. She knocked softly on Eliot’s door.

“Enter.”

Julia pushed the door open gently, poking her head into the room. Eliot was laying in bed again.

“You wanna,” she held the plate up. “You wanna take this to Q? He was complaining about his breakfast, might wanna eat something you made.”

“It’s just a sandwich.”

Julia sighed and set the plate down on the cluttered desk beside the door. She sat at the foot of his bed and stared at her hands in thought. She tried to think of something to make him feel better, or to distract him.

“Q can still…feel things, Eliot.” She turned and stared at him. He was sprawled out on his back, staring up at the ceiling. It reminded Julia of when Quentin would sulk in his room at the loft they shared before either of them had experienced real magic.

Eliot stayed silent.

“His morals and ability to relate to everyone else are just skewed right now.” She continued, trying to recall what it had felt like for her.

“I don’t think I can face him.” Eliot sighed, slinging his arm across his face and trying to hold back the panic in his chest. He really wasn’t sure he  _ could _ face Quentin. Even if Quentin had his shade, Eliot felt like he completely blew it. Julia seemed to catch on.

“He died for you, El.”

That stung.

Eliot pushed himself up into a sitting position, grimacing in pain. When he was sitting up as comfortably as he could, he stared down at his lap and then up at Julia. A deep sigh made its way out of him.

“Fine. I can...try.” Eliot stiffly got himself up out of bed. Julia stood and helped him, grabbing his cane from it’s spot leaning against the bedside table. She pushed it into his hand and squeezed it softly. Julia smiled reassuringly at Eliot.

He pat her hair gratefully and then squeezed past her, retrieving the plate on his way into the hall. He took a deep, shaking breath only to be startled when Quentin’s door opened. Eliot looked up in alarm. Quentin paused, staring back at him.

He was silent for a second and then he finally said something, “You guys weren’t exactly being quiet.”

“Oh,” Eliot averted his eyes, voice gravelly and nervous. “Sorry, I guess.”

Quentin shrugged. He kept staring at Eliot like he expected something. Casually, the man walked to Eliot and took the plate in his hand and picked up a half of the sandwich. Eliot glanced at him in surprise.

“What?” Quentin took a bite of the sandwich. “M’starving.”

Eliot didn’t respond, just looked away and gulped. After a minute or two of the sound of Quentin’s chewing, Eliot shifted, “I should…Uh--”

“I don’t hate you.”

He widened his eyes and gave Quentin a look.

“I didn’t hate you.” Quentin tilted his head. Eliot forced himself to laugh to keep from crying. He didn’t know why it was relieving to hear but it was. It was suffocating to the point of chest pain, but it was relieving.

The shorter man hummed and slid past Eliot, trailing his hand across Eliot’s lower back on his way. It sent warmth up his spine and to the base of his skull.

“I need water. Resurrection is dehydrating.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is when Quentin gets mean and its very OOC of him but c'mon it's Shadeless Q. We, as fandom, get to build upon him as we wish.
> 
> Trigger warning for blood, sanist language, fighting, lots of tension and fighting tbh

It was quiet for the remainder of the afternoon, evening, and night. Quentin and Eliot wound up staying in their respective rooms. The only time either one surfaced again was to use the bathroom or to get something out of the kitchen. Somehow, it was coordinated enough that they could avoid one another, even after Eliot had blown through two bottles of stale prosecco he had found in the corner of the Cottage’s wine rack.

He really needed to clean that kitchen and take inventory.

Alice wasn’t  _ quite _ as reclusive as the two men. She had holed herself in the Cottage’s library, reading and writing furiously like it were exam week. She was trying to distract herself from the obvious thought plaguing her mind.

She needed to break up with Quentin.

Again.

It was clear to her that he no longer regarded her as a love interest. Or an interest at all, it seemed. She wanted to save herself the pain of chasing after someone who didn’t want her. Save them both the embarrassment.

Was there a chance that Quentin would be interested once his shade returned and he was made whole again? Maybe. However, Alice had to ask herself if it would be genuine or worth the heartache of waiting. She had heard the quick exchange between Quentin and Eliot from her spot at the library desk the night before. It had only confirmed what she already knew and hated to acknowledge.

_ I don’t hate you. I didn’t hate you. _

It was simple on the surface. A bland statement of assurance. Alice could decipher what it actually meant though. She didn’t want to be in a one-sided relationship. And Quentin didn’t seem too invested anyway.

Maybe Alice could go on some sort of sabbatical without killing anyone or getting someone arrested.

_ Maybe _ .

She was really unsure about that. From where Alice was, it seemed like she screwed things up too easily and too willingly. It got hard for her not to blame herself for everything. Her father’s passing. The Order’s Siphon. Even Quentin.

_ Especially Quentin. _

That was the straw that broke the scholar’s back. She didn’t think she deserved what she would just break.

Alice needed to get out.

And she could have done so just that morning had Kady not stumbled in through the Cottage’s front door. She was disheveled and a thick stream of drying blood caked her fat, dark curls to the side of her face. The red-brown liquid spanned from a swollen spot on her temple to her jaw.

“Holy shit.” Alice gasped, standing abruptly and rushing to the wounded Hedge Witch’s side. Kady grimaced, ducking away and limping her way to the stairs. When she slumped heavily on the bottom steps without grace, Alice called up the stairs for Julia.

Julia hurried out of her room and halted at the top of the stairs, hissing out an echo of Alice’s sentiment.

“ _ Holy shit. _ ”

The ex-goddess flew down the stairs and crouched beside her companion (or whatever they considered one another--it was complicated).

“What happened?” Julia smoothed the clean hair from Kady’s face to get a look at the mess plastered to the side of her head. “Alice, go get a wet rag. Kady, what happened?”

“Rogue hedges. That’s what fucking happened.” Kady winced, holding her ribs. She turned slowly to accommodate her pain, staring intensely up at her girlfriend. “Henchmen of Marina, or I don’t know... _ fucking Pete _ .”

“I-I don’t understand.” Julia shook her head. “I thought they were helping us--”

“Marina helps Marina, Jules. She’s fucking psychotic.” Kady sighed agitatedly, as if it were the most obvious bit of trivia in the world--which it kind of was at this point. “And Pete is still kissing her ass to keep his spot as second to best.”

“Why are they suddenly targeting you though?”

“Who knows…”

Alice returned quickly with a rag and handed it to Julia. Julia thanked her quietly and tenderly began wiping the blood from Kady’s face. After a few minutes, it was revealed that the wound wasn’t really that big; the amount of blood was misleading. The panic in the room lessened at that finding.

“I should, um…” Julia glanced at Kady’s hand holding whatever wound was hidden underneath. Her brows furrowed and then shot up in decision. She glanced at Alice. “We should go get first-aid.”

Kady took the hint and stood up precariously. Julia’s look at Alice became apologetic, to which Alice responded with a bitter nod of understanding. Julia and Kady climbed the stairs together, Julia’s hand holding her girlfriend’s elbow to steady her.

They got to the Cottage’s upper level bathroom and entered grimly. Kady sat down on the toilet’s lid and immediately kicked off her booties, flexing her feet in an attempt to relax. Julia made herself busy, retrieving bandages and various ointments from the cabinets beside the bathtub. Kady jerkily peeled her jacket off and by the time she got it off, Julia was free to help her strip off her shirt and tank top.

A look of relief crossed Julia’s features when she saw there was no blood, just a deep purple, baseball sized bruise weeping across Kady’s left ribcage. The petite woman began cleaning Kady’s temple a little more thoroughly now, dabbing a cotton pad with rubbing alcohol.

“This might sting--”

“Ow,  _ shit _ .” Kady hissed, flinching when the damp material grazed the corner of the cut on her head. A soft chuckle escaped her and she glanced up at her girlfriend curiously.

“What is it?” Julia smiled softly, her dark eyes never leaving where her fingers diligently worked.

“Nothing,” The Hedge Witch closed her eyes. “This just feels less stressful...than like...trying to prevent the apocalypse.”

“Well, that’s an optimistic way of looking at it.” Julia nodded, raising her eyebrows. 

They were quiet for a while. Kady’s face went serious and she stared softly at a point on the wall. Julia applied butterfly strips to her girlfriend’s head, trying to close the wound a little and prevent huge amounts of scarring.

Kady’s voice wavered as she suddenly spoke: “I think...we should...break up.”

The hands working at her scalp faltered for a moment before resuming just as quickly if not more. Julia’s ministrations were anxious and rushed now and she flinched away when Kady hissed in pain. Julia stepped backward to stand in front of the tub, looking like she had just been electrocuted. Kady didn’t dare look at her, keeping her eyes on that point on the wall.

They stayed like that for a while until Kady finally looked up at Julia, who was nearly shaking. She was staring down at her fingernails with immense concentration, cleaning the dried blood out from under them and probably damaging them in the process. When she returned her gaze to Kady, it was hurt but oddly understanding as if she had expected this.

“You’re just springing this on me? No--No soliloquy to at least ease me in?” Julia laughed bitterly, dropping her hands to her sides.

“Jules--”

“No, Kady,” she held a hand up and sat on the edge of the tub. “I get it-- I do. I’m just confused? You’re being de-throned by Marina and breaking up with your girlfriend is your first priority.”

“I don’t need my girlfriend right now, Julia.” Kady replied softly, giving her a guilty look out of the corner of her eyes.

“What the fuck is  _ that _ supposed to mean?” Julia asked, looking more and more concerned and confused and frustrated. “Kady, please don’t use this as a chance to just run away from me--”

“I’m not running away, Julia.”

“ _ Then what? _ ” The ex-goddess nearly yelled. Something crackled under her skin just then.

_ CRACK _ .

Both of their heads snapped up to stare at the source of the noise in alarm. The medicine cabinet mirror now had a large crack running from one corner and dispersing into about three different directions. Julia swallowed as Kady looked back at her. It was her turn to be confused.

“I-I think I may have…” Julia pointed at the damage coyly, sucking her bottom lip in and trapping it between her teeth.

“I’m sorry,” Kady gaped at her. “But fucking  _ what? _ ”

“I think I can use magic again.”

“How?”

“I kind of grew a tree the other day.”

“ _ How? _ ”

Julia just smiled nervously, shrugging. Kady stared at her and huffed an incredulous laugh, shaking her head and looking back at the crack. She studied it while Julia chewed on the inside of her cheek behind her, staring down at her hands again.

She had done that. She lost her grip on calm and collected and it caused an uncontrollable act of destruction. This is what she tried to avoid when she was younger, learning from Richard how to filter her emotions into a more benevolent power.

_ Yeah, look where that got her. _

Julia suddenly didn’t feel so excited about her recovered magic.

“I’m sorry,” Julia sighed, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Kady looked back at her questioningly. “I didn’t mean to get upset-- I…” she furrowed her eyebrows, thinking. “I actually don’t have an excuse. I think I just panicked a little.”

“Jules,” Kady placed a light hand on the other’s knee. “It’s okay. You didn’t scare or hurt me.”

Julia stared up at her guiltily through her lashes, took a deep breath, and then cleared her throat.

“I  _ do _ get it.” She stated, licking her lips nervously. “I just didn’t understand  _ why _ , and I didn’t give you a chance to explain. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Kady smiled, squeezing her knee reassuringly. The Hedge Witch sighed and looked away, feeling uncomfortable with being so vulnerable; asking for what she wanted.

“I want us to stay friends, Julia.” She returned her gaze to Julia’s nervous eyes. “I like being your girlfriend, I  _ really _ do. But… I don’t-- Ugh.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed on: “I care about you and I like caring for you and you caring for me, but what exactly are we, Jules?”

It clicked in Julia’s head, the realization flooding her brain. She nodded slowly, digesting the information she was being given. Kady continued.

“I  _ love _ you but I don’t know if it’s the way you need me to.” Kady’s eyebrows shot into her hairline and she opened her eyes for Julia to catch the twinkle in them. “I don’t want to ruin a perfectly good friendship by lying like that.”

Julia took a moment but her face bloomed into a proud and grateful smile. She held Kady’s hand and squeezed it, nodding with as much understanding as she had. She still could help the bitter tightness at the back of her throat and the prickle of tears in her sinuses, of course she would be a little sad.

“I--” She took a deep breath and nodded again, meeting Kady’s gaze with one of support and warmth. “I think I understand and--and--” she bit her lip in thought.

“It sounds stupid, I just don’t think…” Kady used the moment to further explain. “I don’t think I want a romantic relationship.”

“With me.”

“With anyone, to be honest.” She shrugged. “At least not right now.”

That actually made sense to Julia. In the vast queer community on the coast, she had heard of people who happened to possess a lack of interest or craving for romantic connection. She couldn’t fully understand it, but Julia wasn’t the one to shun it or shit on it. She smiled and put her other hand on top of Kady’s.

“I may not experience the same thing,” she gazed lovingly at Kady. “But I understand, and I think it’s  _ beautiful _ that you…” Julia waved her hand around in an attempt to find the right words. “I think it’s really admirable that you’re being so honest about it, and I support you.”

Kady’s cheeks reddened and she had to look away to hide the panic she felt at the realization that she just spilled her guts without starting a fight or covering it with a hard shell. She took a deep breath and loosened the knot in her sternum, gritting her teeth at the sharp pain in her side.

Julia jumped right back into action. Kady smirked, leaning back to allow the woman a better view.

“So,” she prompted. “Friends?”

Julia grinned at her, ignoring the dull ache of loss in her chest.

“I think you mean  _ Best Bitches. _ ”

Alice stood at the foot of the stairs, head hung in dismay as the bathroom door shut. The Cottage seemed ghostly and muted now that she was alone again. It was cold, but not in the physical form of discomfort. She hugged herself, shaking with unshed tears. Tears of sadness. Anger. Loneliness. Guilt. Fear.

She couldn’t help the thoughts flooding her head.

_ It’s not fair that everyone else gets a happy relationship. _

_ Is this Karma? _

_ What the fuck is so wrong with me? _

The hole those words and others burned into her chest nearly rendered her immoble. Alice stumbled to the love seat and plopped down on to the middle cushion, planting her face in her hands.

She sniffled and made the smart decision to take her glasses off and fold them neatly on the coffee table. She missed not having to worry about that. She missed being a Niffin. Knowing the answer to everything, to every fucking question she had ever.

Like  _ why the fuck was she like this? _

There was a desperate brick of hope in her heart that pleaded with the universe that maybe her shadeless boyfriend still possessed some inkling of adoration or, shit, even just simple want. That brick weighed her down and made it hard to breathe. Alice leaned over, letting that brick lay her down on the couch. It turned the world sideways and even with the change of perspective, Alice didn’t have any answers.

The light through the windows caught the dust swimming around in the room, which now felt simultaneously too big and too small. She remembered when the Cottage used to fill itself with joviality, all amber light and amber liquid. She missed the blanket-like warmth of being surrounded by people and not having to worry about who was going to  _ blame _ her or hate how pretentiously intelligent she could be--because they were too. They just knew how to let loose.

They didn’t need the answers.

The somewhat familiar  _ tap, step, step, tap, step, step  _ is what jostled Alice back into a sitting position. Eliot was the last person Alice wanted to see at the moment. Yet, at the same time the aching loneliness in her reached out for his company.

At least they could be miserable about Quentin together.

She hastily wiped the tears away with the palm of her hand and shook the stray blonde strands out of her face. Sitting up straight, Alice cleared her throat and waited for Eliot to get to the living room.

He did. And he paused when he saw her on the couch instead of in her bubble at the desk in the library.

Eliot looked exhausted. His hair was barely smoothed back and dark bags hung from his hollow eyes. He wasn’t in his pajamas anymore, but his clothing was still rumpled and loose. He leaned on his cane and wobbled slightly.

“You look like you need a drink.” He said, leaving no room for a response before he turned and dragged himself to the bar. Alice listened to the noises of him concocting and shaking some cocktail that no one had heard of. It hurt to listen to.

Eliot used to make his drinks with vigor and the motivation to impress. He used to be precise and quick. Now he sounded sloppy and unmeasured. He wasn’t making drinks to entertain, he was making drinks to drink. To drown out the hurt.

Alice thanked him when he returned with some lemon yellow liquid in mismatched glasses--a lowball glass, and a martini glass. All she had to do was sniff it to know that it was probably 70% spirits and 30% mix and chaser. Eliot slung back what was in his martini glass and then took Alice’s to nurse. She gladly gave it up, a bit concerned that she would poison herself if she were to consume it.

“Has he spoken to you at all?” Eliot asked, knitting his brows together and leaning back against the corner cushions.

“Not a lot.” Alice answered softly. Eliot looked down, something plaguing his eyes.

He patted her knee, “It’s...gonna be okay?”

“You don’t have to lie to me to try to cheer me up,” Alice smiled sadly, trying to sound genuine but just coming off like a bitch.

Eliot sat there for a solid beat like his brain was still catching up and then closed his eyes.

“It was more like I was lying to myself.” He sighed.

“Oh...sorry…”

“No worries,” Eliot reached up and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Daddy’s just got a  _ pounding _ headache.”

“I don’t think more alcohol is going to fix that.” Alice cocked an eyebrow.

Eliot let out an empty and forced laugh, “And what? A Tylenol and water will?”

She sniffed, “Well, yeah, probably.”

“Oh,  _ darling _ ,” Eliot slurred, leaning forward and smiling at her. “A little OTC medication isn’t going to fix what’s wrong with me.”

It made her skin crawl, how easily Eliot Waugh could  _ act _ . How well he could pretend that it was 2017 again and they had nothing to worry about except for a reading in Professor March’s class.

Except she knew that’s not what he was pretending. He was pretending that nothing could hurt him and that he was just the bitchy party boy he had been, not the wise King of Fillory. Alice grimaced, frustrated that he seemed to just throw away that accomplishment.

“Why were you crying, Ms. Quinn?” Eliot drawled, studying her unsteadily. His eyes glazed over and seemed to roam away.

“I-I wasn’t.” Alice declared, fisting the fabric of her skirt.

“I’m no makeup guru, but,” he set his drink down, seeming to sober up a tiny bit. “I don’t think anyone makes eyeliner in that  _ distinct _ shade of pink. Trust me, I’m  _ very _ familiar with it.”

She looked away, searching for a way to take the spotlight off of herself.

“You know,” she started bitterly. “He did it for you.”

Eliot froze, swallowed, and then narrowed his eyes.

“If you’re trying to make me feel shitty about this whole situation, don’t bother.” He spat, demeanor immediately changing. “I know it’s my fault he died.”

Alice jerked back in shock.  _ No, that’s not... _ It wasn’t his fault. They were both blaming themselves to the point of destruction. How had she not considered that before?

“That’s not what I was saying--”

“Then what?” Eliot’s lip curled in a sneer. “I should be fucking grateful that he martyred himself because I made him just that fucking miserable and he wanted to be a  _ hero _ ?”

His breath ran out by the time he got to the end of his self-deprecating comment. Alice grit her teeth.

“For fuck’s sake,” she snapped back. “I’m saying that Quentin loves you.”

Her heart took a hit and shattered then, dropping into her stomach and filling her chest with ice cold heartbreak. Eliot just stared at her with wide eyes, like she had shared shocking news. Alice’s throat constricted and she got to her feet angrily.

“Do whatever you want with that information, because he’s yours now.” She snarled, turning and stomping around the bar wall and up the stairs. When she reached the second floor, she immediately turned and rushed to Quentin’s room.

She didn’t mean to pound on the door but she did. And he answered. She couldn’t decide which made her feel more sick.

“You can just knock,” he said through the door. “Or come in, I’m not doing anything scandalous.”

Alice pushed the door open and stopped, her skin prickling with unease.

Quentin was sat cross legged on his bed, a tattered book in his hand and his Fillorian crown sat neatly on his head. The walls around him were plastered with papers and notes and drawings. His desk was a collection of wooden figurines started on it, the knife beside them hinting that he had carved them himself. Yet, they weren’t Earth animals. Alice recognized a couple as Questing Creatures and something about it made her stomach twist.

She realized the pages on the walls were ripped out of later editions of the  _ Fillory and Further _ series. A large map of Fillory was scribbled on the ceiling, and pushpins were pressed into various locations such as the Darkling Woods and the Clock Barrens. Alice didn’t know what was going on but she really didn’t like it.

“What--Quentin, what is all of this?” Her voice shook as she stepped further in to the room and stared in horror at the spectacle.

“ _ I _ ,” Quentin smiled, mouth curling at the corners like the Cheshire Cat. “Am going to catch the Questing Creatures.”

“What--No, Q--You can’t do that!”

“Why not?” he shrugged at her.

“You--” Alice stared at him and then gave the room another one over. “That’s fucking crazy!”

“No, Alice,” Quentin untangled his legs and set down his book.  _ Advanced Astral Projection _ by Kaminsky. He stood up and held his arms out like he was showing her a masterpiece. “I could possess the power of the most unique creatures in Fillory if not the  _ multiverse _ and harness it.”

“No, that--”

“I’m still hashing out the fine details but I could box them and leave a little wiggle room for their magic to escape--”

“They’re not Niffins, Quentin!” Alice frowned. “You could damage magic as we know it.”

“Oh, like I haven’t done it before.” Quentin rolled his eyes and smirked. His smile vanished just as quickly and he stared down his nose at her. “If magic goes out again, I’ll share the totems with you. We could be powerful  _ together _ , Alice.”

That brick of hope tugged again but Alice just felt sick now. She took a step back and shook her head. Alice wanted to run, knowing that this wasn’t genuine intrigue. He just wanted to make sure she wouldn’t stop him. The woman stumbled backward and caught herself on the doorjamb, knuckles white.

“Quentin-- I’m--” She swallowed down the bile of fear climbing her esophagus. “I’m breaking up with you.”

His eyes darkened. Quentin didn’t seem particularly upset. He seemed disappointed like he just watched his favorite toy give out. He looked bored. He clicked his tongue and sighed, shrugging earnestly.

Quentin gave her a cold smile, “You mean we weren’t already?”

That was a punch to the gut.

A flash of something caught in Quentin’s eye and his face contorted somewhere between a snarl and a grin. He looked like an animal out for blood.

“Did you seriously think our relationship would survive another dodged armageddon?” he looked down at her in amusement.

His demeanor changed again to one of sincerity. He actually looked like Quentin for once since the resurrection; emotions worn on his sleeve. The words that he released next, however, stung and made Alice dizzy.

“Face it, Alice,” he spat. “You knew that you didn’t have a chance so you seized the opportunity to date  _ poor little Quentin Coldwater _ while Eliot was out of the way.” Quentin’s voice dropped to a low whisper. “How  _ selfish _ .”

“ _ Shut up! _ ” Alice shrieked, turning and slamming the door shut as she hurried down the hallway, down the stairs, and rushed into her room on the ground floor of the Cottage. Quentin was left standing in his room, damn near burning a hole in the door with an icy glare.

_ Not all kings need a court, anyway. _


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

“Well, this fuckin’ blows.” Margo groaned, walking beside Penny. The cold Manhattan air nipped at her skin through the thin jacket she wore. Sometimes she forgot the seasonal differences between Brakebills and everywhere else. Penny strode beside her, hands balled into fists in his pockets.

“That dragon was a fucking dick.” He grumbled, joining in the complaining.

“So were those guards.” Margo agreed, hugging herself against the cold.

Penny growled, slowing his pace and then coming to a full stop. Margo kept walking but halted when she realized her friend was missing. She turned and gave him a tense and questioning look.

“Penny,” she cocked a brow. “Come on, I’m freezing my tits off here.”

“We have to go back.” The traveller looked up at Margo, twitching a little from the tension in his muscles.

“It’s  _ not there _ .” Margo began walking toward Penny. “He showed you himself. You heard him--”

“They could be lying--” He began pacing, running his hands through his hair manically. “It  _ could _ be there, they just aren’t--”

“ _ Penny. _ ”

“Margo,” he stopped and angled himself to face her. They just stared at each other for a second and then he made his way to the woman, staring down at her with pleading eyes. “I can  _ not _ go back to Brakebills empty handed. Julia is expecting--”

Margo swallowed down a ball of tight anger and frustration, staring right back up at him. She pursed her lips, eyes turning glassy and hard.

“You think I’m not scared to go back and see the absolute heartbreak on Eliot’s face when he realizes we’re fucked?” She said quietly, dropping her arms and letting the cold air lick up her torso and ground her. Penny’s eyebrows curled upward in a look of desperation.

Margo took a deep, trembling breath and looked down. She licked her lips.

“We will figure this out.” She spoke slowly, trying to find a way to digest the words herself and believe them. They always figured things out, right?  _ Right _ . But, it always seemed to come with a price.

Penny looked down and nodded, falling back in with Margo’s step when she turned and started walking again. He hadn’t wanted to travel back to Brakebills just yet, too ashamed to face Julia.

“I didn’t realize you two were a thing again,” Margo changed the subject easily as if it’s all they had been talking about. She smirked at him and gave him a teasing look out of the corner of her eye, hiding the turmoil under her surface.

“We...aren’t.”

“Oh,” she scowled. “Well, why the hell not?”

“She doesn’t exactly seem interested right now.” Penny rolled his eyes, crossing his arms like a sulking teenager.

“ _ Pshaw _ , I’ve seen the way you look at eachother. Maybe you guys could, uh,” Margo was laying it on thick. Penny cringed but couldn’t help the shy smile on his face. “Talk to Kady and work out a little  _ sum’n-sum’n _ .”

He sighed, tensing a little. Margo’s cheery, flirtatious facade melted away and she regretted bringing up the current dynamics. It was an exposed nerve for Penny and those things never occurred to her until after she opened her mouth.

“Kady is gonna break up with Jules.” Penny stated simply.

_ What the shit? _

“Wait-- Hold the fuckin’ phone!” Margo sputtered. “That’s a  _ bold _ assumption of you to make.”

“It’s not.”

Margo gaped up at him, confusion plaguing her features. Penny didn’t look relieved or happy about the information; he looked guilty to even possess it.

“Kady told me before we left. She wanted to make sure that I could...support Julia.” He sighed, shrugging.

Margo frowned, “You say it like she was planning on leaving for good.”

Penny shrugged.

“Well,” she bobbed her head and crossed her arms again, taking a more leisurely pace. “I for one believe you should ask Julia out.”

“I can’t,” his eyebrows shot into his hairline and he gestured around like it was obvious. “There’s higher priorities on her list than getting back with me. I took away her decision and I’m surprised she’s not still pissed off at me.”

“She’s not pissed off at you. She forgave you.”

“She forgave me.” Penny confirmed.

Margo sighed, closing her eyes and collecting herself so she didn’t explode.

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” she opened her eyes and looked at him, smacking his arm lightly. “But you need to grow a pair of tits, and go get your ex back--again!”

Penny scoffed, “You’re somehow motivating me with your aggression.”

“Hey,” Margo smirked. “I’ll tell you what a great king told me once.”

He raised his eyebrows and smiled expectantly at her.

“I am a bitch who refuses to knock down another bitch’s crown.”

“Did you just call me a bitch?”

“I ain’t sayin’ you’re a pussy.” Margo snorted.

A long pause sat between the two until Margo finally broke the silence. She looked at Penny curiously.

“What exactly happened in your timeline, Penny?”

Kady heard doors slamming before she even registered the yelling. Julia had just finished rubbing some DIY magickal BenGay into the bruise on Kady’s ribs when they both jumped at the noises. Kady jumped into action, grabbing and yanking on her green tank top. She pulled open the bathroom door and rushed out into the hall, glancing at Quentin’s door and then the stairs.

She hurried down the stairs and out toward the alcove where Alice’s room was. Eliot was slumped against the leather cushions of the couch, eyes closed but not sleeping. Kady swatted at his knee for his attention.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

“Hell if I know,” he slurred back, opening his eyes long enough to register who it was and shrug. “Alice was screaming and slamming doors. What’s new?”

Kady rolled her eyes, starting toward Alice’s bedroom door, muttering something about throwing away every drop of booze in the Cottage. She knocked lightly on the door.

“Alice?” she called.

A sniffle answered: “Go away.”

“Alice, please. I don’t feel like exploding doors today.”

No answer. Kady turned the knob and opened the door. Alice was huddled on top of her pillows, hugging her knees. She kept her head forward but watched Kady enter her space like a frightened animal.

“You shouldn’t be in here. I told you to  _ go away _ .” She spat. Kady frowned and crossed her arms.

“I’m not gonna let you bottle your shit up this time.” Her brow arched at the blonde. “Sorry to disappoint but I’m not in the mood for being a crappy friend right now.”

Alice glared at her for a few moments and then dragged her eyes down to stare at a square of flowers on her quilt, a curtain of blonde hair falling in front of her face like a wall between the two women. Kady made her way to the bed and sat on the edge, grimacing at the slight creak that the shitty spring bed frame made.

“So,” Kady pulled her legs up onto the bed and crossed them. “You gonna tell me what happened?”

“We--” Alice swallowed, knitting her thin brows together. “I broke up with him.”

Kady’s face dropped in concern, she reached out to comfort the woman but paused when Alice continued speaking.

“He’s still infatuated with Eliot,” she swallowed anxiously. “And while I get that he--his  _ shade _ \--still cares about me… I can’t be with him, knowing that it’s not me that…”

Kady nodded, understanding what Alice was implying. Quentin cared for and loved Alice Quinn, but the bond he seemed to share with Eliot was pretty much knit into the fibers of Quentin’s being. It was something she talked to Julia about after a sappy romantic drama that she did  _ not _ find compelling in any way--nope, nuh uh,

“We can’t let Quentin out of our sight.” Alice nearly choked on his name. Her voice cracked and she glanced up anxiously.

“I get that you still love him, Alice,” Kady laughed nervously. “But I don’t think that's the way to--”

Alice shook her head, a dire look in her blue eyes. She was talking about Quentin using magic.

“Don’t worry,” Kady smiled reassuringly. “He’s got a Reed’s Mark and--”

“No, Kady,” Alice’s eyes darkened. “He’s planning something.”

The Hedge witch turned serious, “Like  _ what _ ?”

“He wants to trap the Questing Creatures and harness their magic.”

Kady’s eyes widened in horror. She remembered what Penny-23, their  _ newer _ Penny Adiyodi, had told her about the way his Quentin had used one of the Questing Keys to regain power and keep it for himself. She also remembered what Julia had told her and how that situation had ended...for everyone involved.

“ _ Shit. _ ”

The Cottage was warm and bustling with excitement. Music came from...somewhere. Sweet smelling smoke wafted into the air from a group of second years lounging on thee couch.The sounds of sex distant in the building electrified Eliot’s ears and sent a giddy, satisfied smile to his face.

He was reclined on the window bench behind the stairs, nice and private. A first year boy’s head laid in his lap like it was the most divine pillow that Eliot could have offered his guest. His long fingers played with the boy’s soft, brunette curls, tangling in them and then smoothing them out.

Eliot hummed softly, raising his other hand to take a drag from the cigarette balanced between his fingers. Oh, how he missed this. It felt heavenly to be able to fill the Physical Kids’ home with cheer and fun again.

The only complaint:  _ Todd _ .

The other man was meant to bring him and his guest their drinks, but he had yet followed through on his instructions.  _ It’s nothing special, just bring us some cocktails. Rosé and St. Germain. _ And Todd agreed, eager to please, like always.

“You’ll have to excuse me, cupcake.” Eliot droned, removing his hand from his pet’s hair.

“Oh, yeah,” The first year sat up, looking a little dejected. “Of course.”

Eliot smiled warmly and patted the other man’s knee, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

He ground out his cigarette in the clear green ashtray on the windowsill and swung his lungs down. The young Magician stood to his full height and cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders back and strutting past the piano.

“ _ Todd-- _ ”

As soon as Eliot crossed the invisible threshold between the bar and the entry hall, everything died. The Cottage went silent and it smelled musty like dust had been settling for years. The lights were out, throwing Eliot’s world into a twisted and dampened version of what it had been. He glanced behind him for his guests but saw no one. The Cottage was empty.

Eliot’s head snapped around at the sound of glass clinking. At the bar was not Todd, but himself. His hair was frizzy and unkempt, and two long gashes ran down his front. Eliot felt the ache in his own abdomen, reaching up and clutching the fabric there. As similar to the real-deal this version looked, Eliot knew it wasn’t him.

The Monster smiled dangerously and bloodily at him, sipping straight from a bottle of tequila.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re supposed to be malevolent and menacing but--” Eliot gulped and his face contorted in disgust. “Are you drinking  _ El Toro? _ You really are evil.”

The Monster seemed a little hurt by his jab and looked at the label on the bottle sadly, “I liked the little hat it wore.”

It took a moment but the realization hit that this disastrous motherfucker was still in Eliot’s head hit and he reeled backward for a moment, holding his head.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” he groaned.

The Monster simply watched him, taking another drink of what Eliot could only describe as  _ bottled stomach acid. _ When the human looked up he sighed in dissatisfaction at the sight. This had to be torture.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead or something?” Eliot scowled in disgust.

“I cannot die.”

“I’m sure you can, but you won’t.” He rolled his eyes, placing his hands on his hips unhappily. “So, what? You planted a seed in me or something to stick around and ride my dick?”

The Monster only blinked.

“Am I going to get A-Class Divine powers too?” Eliot sarcastically drawled.

“I did not put myself here.” The Monster raised it’s eyebrows, placing the bottle of shitty tequila down softly and stepping around the bar to get closer to Eliot. The Magician eyed the ancient god’s ensemble and gave a pitying look.

“Oh, fuck, how could you do this to yourself?” he whined. He winced at the tacky tee shirt tucked into skinny jeans and the fairly emo Jedi cloak-cardigan  _ thing _ .

The Monster ignored the comment.

“I am...you.” It pointed at Eliot and twirled it’s finger.

A shock of repulsion shot up Eliot’s spine and crawled across his shoulder blades. He let out a nervous laugh, disguised as something cold and high-pitched.

“Fuck.” Eliot ran a shaking hand through his curls, nearly ripping a few locks out of his head. His breathing was ragged and quick, flirting with hyperventilation. “ _ Fuck _ .”

He took a step back while the Monster took a step forward. The pattern continued until Eliot had himself pressed into the wall, the heat from the fireplace licking at his side. He willed himself to disappear into the wood panelling but to no avail as the Monster invaded Eliot’s space and smiled curiously at him. Eliot swore it sniffed him, it’s eyes roaming over his features.

“If you didn’t put yourself here, then who did?” Eliot swallowed the lump in his throat. “Is this some shitty Plan B that Calypso made?”

The Monster narrowed its eyes and it’s lip twitched in distaste at the name of it’s jailor. It lowered its head, gazing darkly at Eliot through it’s eyelashes.

“You are keeping me here.”

Eliot stared back in horror, looking for the punchline to the joke on the Monster’s face. He snorted out a sharp laugh and then slipped out of the space he was confined to, knocking a small granite-top table over. It toppled over and Eliot flinched. The Monster wasn’t bothered to even look at the mess that the large smashed tile made, instead turning to stare at the human.

“Why the fuck would I do  _ that? _ ” Eliot snapped, face settling into hard disbelief and disgust. Fear wavered in and out of his features. “I didn’t want you in here in the first place,  _ you _ hijacked  _ my _ body.  _ You _ fucked up  _ my _ shit.”

The Monster gave Eliot a considering look, tilting its head.

“You…” It’s eyes dragged up and down Eliot’s body and he was pretty sure he felt his skin turn to gravel where its gaze travelled. “You are who Quentin wanted so badly to retrieve.”

Eliot’s face twitched and he balled his hands into fists.

“I  _ swear _ to  _ whatever _ God is listening,” he snarled. “If you say he died for me or he  _ loved me _ , I’ll--”

He stopped. He’d what? Cry? Wreck this mental projection of evil? Yeah, fat fucking chance. Eliot’s shoulders slumped. He gave the Monster a ragged look of hatred, but at the moment he didn’t see an ancient toddler of the gods with no moral compass and a kink for viscera. He was glaring at the face it possessed.

Eliot gave himself a look of pure rage and betrayal.

“You are  _ pathetic _ .” He hissed. The Monster blinked, eyebrows jumping for a second in surprise. Eliot took a step forward. This wasn’t the Monster, not even a leftover shred of its energy. This was purely Eliot’s doing.

It was his turn to invade the other’s space.

“You’re not evil.” Eliot frowned. “You’re just fucking  _ scared _ . You’re guilty and ashamed. What the  _ fuck _ is wrong with you?”

The Monster stared at Eliot in shock, eyes wide.

“I said that when I got out of here, I would be braver than this.” Eliot squinted. His nose scrunched as he filed through the emotions welling up in him. “For Quentin.

“I got him killed.” He stooped down to get closer to the other’s face, fury crackling in the air between them. “I can’t hide in a bottle of liquor and expect him to get his shade back.”

Eliot took a step back, swallowing and throwing his shoulders back. He stared down his nose at himself, sighing with finality.

“He deserves that much.”

The man turned on his heel and walked to the entrance of the Dream Cottage, threw open the front door, and stepped out. When the door slammed behind him, the Cottage was empty, yet void of any darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for such a short chapter.I was feeling pretty unwell while writing it, and attentiveness was NOT on my side.


	7. Chapter 7

_ Eliot. _

_ Eliot, wake up! _

With a start, Eliot Waugh’s eyes flew open and he gasped a little at the jostling of his shoulders. He was confused for a moment before his vision focused in the dark and zeroed in on Margo’s big brown eyes. Relief washed over him and he surged forward, sobering up a little in that instant.

“ _ Bambi _ ,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around her and talking a deep breath. She smelled like patchouli and argan oil, as well as firewood (“You try getting blown on by a dragon and  _ not _ smelling like a Renn Faire bonfire.”) Eliot’s tense muscles unwound a little and he slumped against her.

“Shit, El,” Margo peeled him off and held him up at arm's length, kneeling between his knees while he was still on the couch. “I leave you alone for ten hours and you already look like you need a  _ week _ at Cal-A-Vie.”

He rolled his eyes and melted a little at the thought of a resort, “That sounds like a dream right now, Bambi.”

“When all of this is over, I  _ promise _ , I will get you and whomever else needs it a European Package. A villa, one of the ones closest to the Watsu pool.” Margo’s eyes shined and a small smile tugged at her lips.

“By the  _ Labyrinth _ .” Eliot groaned, reminiscing how the sun on his skin felt from the last time she took him.

“By the Labyrinth.” Margo confirmed.

Penny cleared his throat from behind Margo, his arms crossed. He rolled his eyes, “I don’t know what the fuck you two are talking about but I’m pretty sure it’s not as important as what we  _ should _ be talking about.”

“What--” Eliot gulped, glancing between the two. What was wrong? They retrieved Quentin’s shade, right? “What do we need to talk about?”

Margo and Penny glanced at one another. Whatever they were saying with their eyes didn’t reach Eliot. Penny left to turn the ground floor lights on and made his way upstairs, knocking on doors and rallying the troops. While he did that, Margo turned back to Eliot with her eyes cast downward. The woman licked her lips and took a shaky breath.

“Eliot, honey,” Margo looked back up and held onto Eliot’s gaze. She was being intense. He really didn’t like when she was being intense. It usually meant he was about to hear something that he would hate. “We weren’t able to get Quentin’s shade.”

His heart dropped into his stomach. Eliot was made extremely aware of how much his axe wounds were hurting. His hands started shaking and he rose his hands to run his fingers through his hair. He needed a shower.

Eliot’s entire body started shaking. His throat tightened and he made a pained noise of grief. Margo moved to sit beside him on the couch and pulled him into a hug. Things felt even more wrong and the backs of Eliot’s eyes stung. Tears crawled down his cheeks, slowly.

“El, it’s okay. We’re gonna figure it out.”

Slowly the others filled the room, taking seats or finding spaces to stand. When Eliot sat back up, Quentin was in the arm chair at the other corner of the small lounging area. The two men met eyes. Eliot felt a fresh twinge of panic and tore his own eyes away, willing the swelling in his eyes to  _ calm the fuck down _ .

Julia was the first to speak: “So…”

“Where’s Quentin’s shade?” Alice interrupted. Margo and Penny stared at each other again, as if willing the other to break the news.

“We don’t have it.” Penny blurted out.

“Well,  _ no shit _ .” Margo rolled her eyes. She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Alright, bitches, hold on to your tits.”

Everyone seemed to just glance at one another uneasily. Quentin had an amused little grin on his face. Alice seemed to be pissed off.

“Q’s shade isn’t  _ in _ the Underworld.”

“Wait, that makes no sense.” Julia shook her head.

The room filled with an amused little laugh. Usually it would have filled Eliot with the warm feeling of love. Right now, Eliot only felt sickened by it. Quentin giggled softly from his seat, his knees folded to fit his small body into the armchair.

“Guess the quest is over,” Quentin shrugged. “And we can get this tattoo off of me--”

“Guess again, Coldwater.” Kady snapped. All attention turned to her. She crossed her arms and looked around. “Alice has information. Actually, I think we all have information. It’s turning out to be an interesting day.”

She arched a brow pointedly at Quentin, who glared right back.

“Information on what?” Julia asked slowly as if to make sure she heard things correctly.

“Like what?” Eliot quipped, sounding a little more like his old self. “Our dear Q has become Darth Coldwater?”

Julia was the only one who snorted at the statement. Kady and Alice shared a look of warning. Penny looked away like he just witnessed a trainwreck. Margo’s face drained of all color.

Oh.

_ Oh _ .

Eliot’s face dropped and he dragged his gaze over to Quentin. The man had chosen Eliot to focus on, staring darkly through him. It really hit him at that moment. This was  _ not _ his Quentin.

“As much as I like changing the subject in any tense and uncomfortable situation,” Eliot readjusted his position so he sat a little more comfortably. Sat straight and stared right back at Quentin. “Where  _ is _ Quentin’s shade?”

“We don’t know.” Margo answered, voice caught. She was eyeing Eliot worriedly. Penny cleared his throat and stepped closer to the group.

“Penny-40 was the one who broke the news to us and then got us out of the Underworld before we got caught.” He sighed.

“Right, um,” Eliot furrowed his brows and finally ripped his eyes from Quentin, settling them between Penny and Julia instead. “So, Penny from  _ this _ timeline was a doll and decided to just give you a free Get Out of Jail card as well as pretty important information, but no hint as to the rest of this bullshit puzzle?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Penny shrugged. “Dude’s pretty cryptic.”

“Alice,” Margo sharply addressed the blonde. “Care to share with the class what  _ information _ you have?”

Alice glanced down at Quentin anxiously.

“Alice,  _ don’t. _ ” He ordered.

She was obviously fighting with herself, shifting uncomfortably.

“Quentin is planning on trapping the Seven Questing Creatures of Fillory,” she swallowed back her unease. Quentin made a noise similar to a growl and sunk further into his seat. “And then using their magic.”

Eliot blinked hard and took a deep breath.

_ In. _

_ Out. _

Rinse and repeat.

Margo took his hand and squeezed it tight. Julia was quiet but stared calmly at her best friend. She looked like a pissed off mother. She grit her teeth as she spoke.

“Kady, tell the others about Marina.”

“ _ Marina? _ ” Penny frowned, eyebrows raising.

“I think she’s trying to take back her place as the dark queen of Hedges.” Kady exhaled with agitation. She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “A couple of her buddies tried to rough me up this morning.”

“Great, we have two bitches trying to Nancy Downs us.” Margo huffed.

Julia was quiet for a long time, hugging herself and staring at the floor. Everyone was quiet, even Quentin who was sulking in the arm chair. Was he just going to stare at Eliot the entire time?

“Hey, Coldwater,” Penny spat. “When you’re done undressing Eliot with your eyes, you could maybe give us some advice on  _ something _ .”

Quentin snapped his eyes to glare at the traveller. He scowled and slung his legs over the armrest of his chair. He didn’t look menacing, and honestly, Eliot hated to admit that this bitchy scolded teenager frown on his face was adorable. But his crush was evil, so he couldn’t admit that.

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to help you all in doing something that I don’t give a shit about.” Quentin snarked.

“Oh,  _ boohoo _ ,” Margo jabbed. “Don’t be a cock just because your malevolent nerdboy wet dream is getting foiled by your friends.”

“Guys,” Julia called, looking up hopefully. The bickering stopped and all eyes were on her. “I think I can help.”

Penny took a step toward her. “Not to be a dick, but--”

“I can use magic again.”

“Oh.” Eliot’s mouth fell open.

She turned and gave Penny a hurt look. He stared back in shock but had no time to apologize before she was addressing the rest of them again.

“We keep an eye on Quentin,” she started. Quentin rolled his eyes (“I’m right here, guys”). “And in the meantime we do what we can. I’ll build my magic up again and when I can--” she glanced at Kady, who smiled thankfully, “--I’ll help take care of Marina--”

“Just  _ kill _ her.” Quentin groaned. “Boom. Done. You’re being boring.”

“ _ Shut _ the  _ fuck _ up, Quentin.” Kady snapped.

“We keep researching and looking for Q’s shade.” Julia continued. “Maybe--maybe we can cast a locator spell.”

“I can help.” Alice piped up. Now everyone was paying attention to her. She gestured vaguely and sighed. “I was thinking… And, well--”

She began pacing.

“Zelda has been trying to get me to join the Order--”

“Didn’t they try to, you know, royally fuck us all over?” Margo arched a brow.

“She wants to change the Library.” Alice licked her lips. “If I can get a position, I can read up on whatever it is we need information on, and--and get Kady some back up from a higher authority and--”

She trailed off and stopped her frantic back and forth movement, looking to her friends with nervous hope. Eliot read between the lines: Read, help, back-up, _ escape.  _ He could definitely understand why.

He kind of wanted to run away too.

The group dispersed as soon as plans were hashed out. Kady left again for her penthouse, promising to reset wards and stay safe. Alice went back to her room for sleep, and Margo absconded to Julia’s room once the space was offered to her. Guess it was a slumber party.

Julia left the living room and strut her way to the dining room to think. Penny hurried behind her and caught her at the foot of the staircase. He tapped at her shoulder, not wanting to just grab her and turn her around.

“Julia, wait,” he begged. She stopped but didn’t turn around. “Please.”

The ex-goddess looked down at her feet and took a deep breath. She turned and faced him, a hard expression on her face.

“Listen, I’m  _ sorry. _ ” Penny wanted to take her hands to emphasize how guilty he felt. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to offend you with what I said--”

“But you did.”

“I know, I  _ know _ . Fuck…” He rubbed his head and shut his eyes, kicking himself mentally. “But, I just--”

“Just what, Penny?” Julia asked, sounding more exhausted than pissed. “Just wanted to, what? Keep assuming I’m ordinary? Normal and can’t do anything? A damsel in distress?”

“God, no, no, no, no,” Penny did grab her hands this time. She didn’t yank away. That was a good sign. “No, Julia. You’re not-- Listen, you are  _ not _ ordinary, you’re fucking  _ amazing _ .

“I assumed you still…” He sighed, dropping one of her hands and gesturing vaguely. “I assumed and made an ass out of myself,  _ again _ . I’m sorry.”

Julia looked down at their hands and slid hers out of his. And then she grabbed back on to his hand in a more equal expression. She nodded and looked him in the eyes.

“I forgive you.” she stated. Penny’s breath hitched.

“Can I--” he blushed and looked away, panicking a little. Julia smiled slightly, kind of lopsided. “Can we try again? Can we, like,  _ try _ again?”

The small woman sighed and closed her eyes. She guided Penny to sit on the bottom steps with her as if he would pass out with her next statement. She squeezed his hand lightly.

“I would like to.” Julia nodded. Hope blossomed in Penny’s chest. “But, can it wait until after we get some shit figured out?”

That did nothing to douse his faith in them. He grinned a little and nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I can wait.”

Julia smiled back. A little twinkle in her eye and she pulled her hand away.

“Here,” she cupped her hands. “Look.”

Penny was confused but obeyed. The woman closed her eyes and hoped this would work. She concentrated as hard as she could. Julia conjured up feelings of love and light, trying to filter out all the disappointment and anger she had been filled with not too long ago.

Something lit up in her hands and out of the wavering air a rose bud grew and bloomed. Penny watched in awe as the bloom fattened and expanded into a large pink rose. Julia opened her eyes and smiled with pride.

“This is a promise.” She grinned at him. Julia placed the flower in his hand and raised her eyebrows to make her point. Next, she kissed his cheek, and before he knew it she had stood back up and was climbing the stairs to go to her room.

“Julia,” Penny called, standing up and staring up at her. She turned and gazed down at him with fondness. She was magnificent. He smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.”

Quentin stayed in the armchair and Eliot stayed on the couch. He tried to play it off as laziness, but really he felt pinned down by the man’s stare. He sighed heavily and leaned back.

“Like what you see?” Eliot asked, a bored tone filling the question.

Quentin shrugged, swinging his legs around to sit like a normal human being and lean back in the chair like it was his throne. After a few seconds of just eyeing Eliot in thought, Quentin stood up and then meandered his way to the couch.

Eliot’s eyes followed the man as he sat beside him and then he chuckled incredulously. He rubbed his knuckle into his temple while Quentin rested his elbow on the back of the sofa, leaning his head on his hand.

“I may not be the monarch of Fillory anymore,” Eliot sighed, glancing at Quentin. “But I do take great offense in you trying to kill it’s fauna.”

“You  _ could be _ King again.” Quentin smiled, using his other hand to trail his knuckles down the other man’s arm. Eliot shuddered, screwing his eyes closed in concentration.

_ Quentin is evil. Keep it in your pants, Eliot. _

“You can’t seduce me to get your way, Q.” He lolled his head to look at Quentin, who was staring at him with those beautiful brown eyes. Eliot’s chest ached and not from the axe wounds. Although, those hurt too.

Quentin ran his hand back up Eliot’s arm and over his shoulder. He didn’t touch Eliot’s chest but his hand did hover there. He sighed as if he were about to speak, glancing at the space it occupied. Quentin’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and Eliot had to focus on his own breathing. He wanted to kiss those lips.

“I can take it away,” Quentin gingerly set his hand down on Eliot’s collarbone. “The pain, I mean. As soon as this stupid little mark fades, I can take it away.”

“I doubt  _ that _ ,” Eliot scoffed, twisting his face bitterly. “Nothing can take this shit away.”

“ _ El _ .” Quentin used that soft tone. The same one that could make Eliot do anything in another life. Eliot sat up a little and Quentin slid closer. “Please, just  _ think _ about it. Come with me to Fillory.”

_ Quentin is evil _ .

“We can’t go there, not until we get your shade back.”

“Screw getting my shade back,” he laughed, looking anywhere but Eliot’s face. It had contorted into a disappointed scowl. “Eliot, we could go and be together without it.”

_ Quentin is… Quentin is--is... _

Everything in Eliot’s head flew out the fucking window. He gazed at the other man and smiled sadly yet fondly. He glanced at Quentin’s lips and furrowed his eyebrows as the ache in his chest built to an almost unbearable pressure in his chest. The smaller man seemed to catch on because he used the moment to lean over and hover near Eliot’s face.

“ _ Q _ ,” Eliot breathed, his eyes flitting between Quentin’s features.

“Fifty years, El.” he smiled. His eyes were empty and dark, and something in Eliot screamed at him to escape but he couldn’t bare doing that again. He was done running.

“Peaches and plums,” he whispered. Quentin closed the space between them and Eliot could help himself. His hand came up to cradle the back of Quentin’s neck reflexively.

Quentin was right; the pain subsided and was replaced with warmth and the hot prickle of want. Want. Want.  _ Want. _ This is what Eliot  _ wanted _ . He  _ wanted _ to hold Q like this. He  _ wanted _ to run away with him. He  _ wanted _ to be happy.

Within moments, Eliot had practically pulled Quentin to his lap, ignoring the pain in his wounds and the screaming in his brain to  _ run _ . A strangled noise escaped him. His hand found its way to Quentin’s hip and rested there, fingers hooked in the loop of his pants and yanking to get him closer.

Quentin retreated and chuckled a little.

“We could be Kings together, Eliot.” He murmured, brushing his knuckle over the angle of Eliot’s cheekbone. “I won’t let you run away this time.”

Eliot leaned in to the touch and almost whined. He  _ could _ go and be with Quentin without getting his shade back.

But, what would that say about the relationship?

His eyes fluttered and he stared up at Quentin with dubious eyes. Quentin was smiling down at him, but it wasn’t the smile of love. It was the smile of someone ready to play with a toy.

_ Quentin is evil. _

“Get off of me, Quentin.” Eliot rasped. 

The other man scowled with dissatisfaction.

“ _ What? _ ”

“Get off.” Eliot cleared his throat and ordered.

“You’re just going to run away again?” Quentin sneered. “You’re a pathetic coward.”

Eliot slid his hands away, gritting his teeth while his heart broke. He swallowed and just stared back at Quentin. Quentin huffed and pushed himself away, mumbling something and standing up. Eliot slid his eyes closed and squeezed his hands into fists while Quentin’s footsteps vanished up the stairs.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are going to be a lot slower from now on, as I am currently deep cleaning my living space.

Eliot was the first to wake up. He did what he always did when he woke up these days. He laid in bed for a good hour, staring at the gray ceiling. He counted the cracks and the cobwebs. He connected all the pinholes that freckled the plaster. And then he started thinking.

Which was his least favorite thing to do.

He thought about kissing Quentin. The first time he had done so since the Time Key had been retrieved. Since they shared a life together. Eliot could remember that lifetime in fuzzy snapshots of golds and the scent of fruit and evergreen. The feeling of Arielle’s warm ginger hair when they all shared a bed. The first time he had laid his eyes on Teddy--Arielle and Quentin’s son--and how he had cried out of happiness and not the fear of fucking that child up. Eliot remembered the feeling of Quentin’s muscles moving under Eliot’s hands when they spent sleepless nights together.

The kissing was electrifying and it always sent prickling waves of shock through Eliot’s limbs. It never got tiring and it always left him in disbelief how one man could love him this much. Love him at all even.

And when the two men recovered those memories, Eliot was terrified of that same love. There was no way Quentin would choose him and then make the choice to stay with him in this life. Not when there was  _ so much shit _ . Eliot knew he was a disappointment waiting to happen. Again.

The fact that it took being possessed and losing his bodily autonomy for Eliot to realize that he was somehow wrong also just reminded him how idiotic he was. And he never got the chance to show Quentin that he learned his lesson. Because Quentin died for him and now he was shadeless so it’s not like it would matter to him anyway.

Eliot screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath that tugged at his stitches like an agonizingly slow yawn.

He wanted Quentin  _ back _ .

And he wanted Quentin to want him back.

Quentin didn’t want  _ Eliot _ though. Quentin wanted some sick twisted power, and the scariest part was that Eliot couldn’t even blame it on possession or some cruel emotion magic. Without the ability to consociate with others, this is what  _ Quentin  _ wanted. He didn’t want love or to care for others.

Eliot’s throat swelled at the thought that he (and everyone else) had lost Quentin Coldwater for good. Something in Eliot told him that it would be okay and that this wasn’t over, but the panic still gripped his heart and squeezed with all it’s might. The man took another deep breath that made the gashes in his abdomen ache, and pushed himself to sit up. His stomach lurched and he groaned mentally knowing that he was about to have a bad next few days.

When Eliot got to the bottom of the stairs, he peered around to see if anyone was awake. There was noise from Alice’s room, but he couldn’t face her. The past few days had been tense between them and he didn’t want to give her any more reason to dislike him more than she already did. Plus, the sigh of her put the acidic taste of envy in his mouth.

Gripping the head of his cane, Eliot stiffly shuffled his way to the kitchen. He began getting out ingredients and dishes immediately. Josh had used a lot of what food was in the house for brunch the other morning, but Eliot wasn’t about to complain about having been fed--even if he didn’t partake in much of it.

Eliot’s plan didn’t  _ quite _ work out. Alice appeared in the doorway while he was beating custard for french toast. He didn’t jump but it did startle him.

“Uh,” he gaped, looking around. “Morning.”

Alice smiled tightly, guilt plaguing her face as she brushed her hair behind her ear. She was dressed in a clean outfit and Eliot could tell she was getting ready to leave to go somewhere.

“Taking a vacation?”

“I was gonna talk to Zelda today.” Alice played with her hands, avoiding his eyes. “Escape for a while…”

Eliot’s gaze dropped to the large bowl of custard. He didn’t really know what to say. What or who was she escaping? Quentin? Him? Magic, again?

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry,” Alice stated like it was the most controversial thing she had decided to do. “Before, you know… I leave.”

“You’re being sentimental right before leaving us all?” Eliot tried to joke. The small smile on his face dropped when she gave him a look of warning. “Sorry…”

She stared at him with caution and then stepped further into the kitchen. Eliot began sopping thick slices of bread in the custard and fitting them into the hot pan on the stove. Alice cleared her throat softly.

“I’m sorry for the things I said to you,” Alice managed, swallowing her own anxiety. “It wasn’t fair and I was being a total bitch.”

“We all are.” Eliot smirked at her.

They were quiet for a bit, Eliot flipping the french toast and Alice picking at the paint of the counter absentmindedly. It was a bitter reminder to Eliot that he couldn’t keep holding on to this house and  _ very _ soon he needed to move on and establish his own home in the real world.

The real world sucked.

_ For now, _ Eliot decided,  _ make the best of it _ .

“Stay for breakfast?” he asked her hopefully. Alice shifted nervously and after a moment of silence she nodded with determination.

“Okay.”

Like before, they fell comfortably into a rhythm. Alice helped him with cutting the overripe strawberries and frying the bacon. Luckily she cooked it to the perfect level of crisp. Eliot could only imagine how impressed his mother or second oldest brother would be.

He showed her how to make quick syrup from the strawberries, boiling them with sugar and then mashing and straining them. Alice actually seemed a little enchanted by the process, explaining that her parents only ever bought organic, off-brand versions of Nesquik syrup. Eliot teasingly gagged, drawing a small laugh from her.

By the time they were done, everyone (except Penny) was accounted for. Julia and Quentin had both come in (separately) to get cereal only to be shooed away. Margo had come in and grabbed the last yoghurt in the fridge, which Eliot was not about to get in the way of. (“Bambi gets  _ hangry _ in the morning if she doesn’t get her low-carb, strawberry cheesecake Yoplait.” “It’s Chobani, you ass.”)

When breakfast was ready, Margo and Alice sat with Eliot at the dining room table. Julia babysat Quentin in his room, most likely peeling the pages and pages of Fillory from his walls while lecturing him.

“Uh, like,” Eliot waved his fork around and swallowed the bite of strawberries in his mouth. “What  _ exactly _ is your plan, Alice?”

“Zelda has been asking me to join the Order--”

“I still don’t get it.” Margo daintilly plucked a slice of bacon off of the serving plate and nibbled at it. “Wasn’t the Order  _ just _ trying to royally fuck everyone over and arrest us?”

Alice bit her own lip for a moment before answering, “With Everett gone, Zelda and Sheila have been trying to rebuild the core values of the Order. They want my help for whatever reason.”

“Well,” Eliot sighed, sipping from a glass of water. “As much as you’ve screwed people over--” Alice narrowed her eyes, “--you are a Master Magician...in my opinion.”

“El’s right.” Margo reached across the table to pat Alice’s hand. “You’re one of the smartest and most skilled Magicians to come out of Brakebills in  _ years _ .”

“Oh, please,” Alice scoffed, smiling modestly. “We haven't even graduated.”

“Does it  _ matter? _ ”

Eliot pushed his plate away a little, which Margo seemed to notice because she gave him a knowing look. He avoided looking at her and kept his gaze on Alice instead, tipping his forward.

“Anyway, Zelda is begging you to join the Order…” he urged.

“I figured I could ask to be in some position like an ambassador,” Alice shrugged. “And then I could get Kady reinforcements in order to, um, take care of Marina.”

“You sound like a mobster, Alice.” Margo deadpanned.

Alice rolled her eyes, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.”

“And if the Library  _ doesn’t _ send reinforcements?” Eliot closed his eyes, trying to ignore the way his stomach was rolling again.

“We do it the way we always do?” Alice sighed.

“Sloppily? Creating more chaos?” Margo raised her eyebrows pointedly.

Alice began standing up, “Let’s hope not.”

She carried her dishes to the kitchen and ran water over them to rinse the sugar and grease off. Margo watched her before leaning forward and stroking her best friend’s arm. Eliot closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of her fingers, instead of the impending withdrawal.

“Eliot,” she murmured. “What’s going on?”

“I’m gonna need some of Lipson’s detox tabs.”

“ _ Shit _ , El. How much did you drink while I was gone?”

“Short answer? A lot.” Eliot gave Margo a pained smile. He sighed and looked away while she reached her other hand up to roll the muscles of his shoulder between her fingers. Alice came back but didn’t sit down.

“I should really go.” She nodded. “Thank you guys, and Eliot…”

He looked up at her curiously.

Alice stayed silent and stared back at him for a bit before simply saying: “Thank you for breakfast.”

Julia plucked the last page of  _ The Wandering Dunes _ by Christopher Plover off of the bedroom wall and crumpled it, tossing it into a black trash bag with the rest of it and the other books of the series, as well as the wooden totems of the Questing Creatures. She turned and looked up at the map of Fillory covering the ceiling above Quentin’s bed. He was sitting on his bed, legs tucked under him, and pouting. His crown was hooked around Julia’s small arm, and a book of his first edition  _ Fillory and Further _ series sat in the hallway beside the bedroom door.

Luckily  _ that  _ set was still intact.

Quentin with a shade probably would have died all over again had he known he destroyed his most prized possession.

“Did you pull all the tacks out of the ceiling?” Julia asked, picking the bowl of pushpins up from Quentin’s bed and then examining the ceiling again, searching for any missed spots of red, blue, or yellow. None left, from what she could tell.

“Can I at least keep the books in here?” Quentin sulked, glowering at his childhood best friend.

“Nope.”

“Jules--”

“No, Q,” Julia held her hand up to stop him. “You’ve lost my trust.”

He sighed with frustration and shrunk into himself. Quentin’s bangs fell in his eyes--he tried to blow them out of the way. Julia couldn’t help herself, she started giggling as soon as the hair fell back into his eyes.

After setting the bag of trashed books in the hallway, Julia sat on the edge of Quentin’s bed. She stared at him for a while, observing the familiar grumpy frown on his face, even if it weren’t for the same pissy reasons as usual. She smiled sadly.

“I miss you, Q.”

Quentin said nothing, just glanced up at her. Julia tilted her head.

“What aren’t you saying?” she asked, worry filling her voice. “What are you hiding?”

He looked away, like a scolded dog. Quentin took a deep breath before he answered, “I just really don’t want my shade back.”

“Why not?”

“Just…” Quentin shrugged, knitting his eyebrows together. “I feel better without it? Jules, you don’t understand how much of a relief it is not to  _ feel _ everything--”

She gave him a look and he deflated, sulking again.

“Oh, right,” he grumbled.

Julia sighed and turned herself to face him more.

“Quentin, I understand how relieving it is.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “But there is beauty…”

“In what? Being happy?” Quentin asked bitterly. “I don’t know if you remember, Julia, but I wasn’t really the type to be happy.”

“There’s beauty in feeling  _ pain _ .” Julia repeated, finishing the sentence and giving him a look of warning.  _ Interrupt me again. _

The man stared at her incredulously and then huffed, smiling a little as he looked to the doorway at his books. He rocked back and forth, willing himself to keep calm. This woman was infuriating,

“There  _ was _ no beauty in the pain I experienced, Jules.” He turned back to her and glared. Julia searched his dark eyes for her best friend, trying to get through to him. He wasn’t there, though. She didn’t know where he was. Quentin curled his fingers and grit his teeth. “There was no beauty in feeling alone all the time. It was ugly as fuck to be that pathetically depressed.”

“How about…” Julia worried her lip a little, looking up and thinking to herself. “Yearning? Heartbreak? Disappointment?”

“Those all sound pretty shitty to me, Julia.”

“Q,” she softly urged him. “Think about it. Those feelings stem out of happiness and love. They’re painful but they come from something beautiful.”

“They just mean that the good feelings are over and we can get back to reality.” He snapped. Julia looked away, chipping at the garnet polish on her nails. Quentin sighed, uncomfortable with the knowledge that he just fucked up. He hated how self-aware being shadeless made him. He didn’t  _ feel _ necessarily, but he knew what he was supposed to feel and he could remember the shame it brought. It all translated to the feeling of his chest being stuffed with cotton. He didn’t like it.

His shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh.

“Fine.”

Julia peeked at him out of the corner of her eye, curiously.

“I’ll help you search,” he rolled his eyes. “And  _ if _ we find it, I’ll take it back for a test run.”

“That’s great, Quentin--”

“ _ But _ , if I don’t like it, I get to remove it again.”

Julia froze and dug her nails into the meat of her thigh through her jeans. She could say no but then Quentin wouldn’t help them at all. It was easier to just agree.

“Okay.” Julia nodded slowly. “Deal, but you have to keep it in for a week at least.”

Quentin narrowed his eyes, “Deal.”

Margo and Eliot continued sitting at the dining room table. His forehead was starting to shine with perspiration and he tried his best to sip the water in front of him. This was the worst part after any bender. His stomach twisted and claws sank into his sides.

“Do you think you can walk to the infirmary?” Margo ran her hands through his curls and grimaced at the state they were still in post-possession. “Should I get your wheelchair?”

They both knew the danger that came with alcohol withdrawal. The first time Dr. Lipson had even prescribed Eliot her detox tablets, it was because Margo had found him in his bed, having a seizure in a pool of his own vomit. He knew how to ignore the nausea and hot flashes like a champ. There were multiple parties he had cleaned up while detoxing and rarely was there ever any change in his character.

Except now the two of them were almost thirty, and of course, Eliot had two life-threatening gashes in his abdomen so he was pretty exhausted. He didn’t have the energy to keep up a facade.

Margo stood up and kissed the top of his head, “Come on, you need a shower. You stink.”

“ _ You _ stink.” Eliot smirked, taking her hand and letting his sweet Bambi lead him to the ground level bathroom. The glass of whiskey and container of narcotics were still on the counter. Eliot was filled with temptation at the sight of the amber fluid, but Margo beat him to it. She threw the pills into a drawer and picked up the glass.

“Turn on the water.” Margo ordered over her shoulder as she strut out of the bathroom to rinse the cup out. Eliot’s shoulders slumped and he sighed, turning and shuffling to the shower-slash-bathtub.

He twisted the knob to the exact spot he always turned it to. The spray started and he held his fingers up to feel the water hit the pads of his fingers. Suddenly, he was  _ very _ motivated to shower and get clean. A tug on his collar drew his attention away.

Eliot looked behind him and blinked as Margo closed the door before starting to remove her jewellery. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Margo, what--”

“Remember that year at Ibiza when you got a hangover and I had food poisoning?” she didn’t even look at him, stripping off her shirt. “We took a bath together?”

Recognition flashed in Eliot’s eyes and he smiled a little. It had been a purely platonic gesture, mostly to cease their argument over who got to use the jacuzzi bathtub first. The friendly intimacy of it made it much more enjoyable, however. Margo had sat between his legs with her back pressed against his chest, while bath salts and an odd pearlescent bubble bath swirled around their limbs. It was the first time they had done that and it was surprisingly rare for it to repeat.

Most of the time, they shared a bath or shower while drunk or heartbroken.

Eliot gingerly unbuttoned his own shirt and slid it off. Margo kicked her heels off and then shucked off her pants, but left on the cute black set of underwear she had on. He wanted to cry at how wrinkled her clothing was going to get but stayed quiet, as she helped him out of his own clothing, finally.

Margo helped Eliot climb into the confines of the tub and then followed him in, laughing a little when he groaned at the warm water pattering at his back. His eyes slid closed and he tilted his head back to catch a little bit of the spray in his hair.

“Back up a little, you’re gonna squish me into the wall, dick.” Margo giggled, taking his hands as he took little steps backward until the showerhead dispensed water onto the crown of his scalp.

She plucked a bottle of body wash off of the corner shelf of the shower and squeezed a bit into her palm. Her hands were tiny on Eliot’s shoulders as she worked the suds across his flesh. Eliot allowed himself to enjoy the pampering.

The enjoyment didn’t last long, though.

“Quentin kissed me.”

Margo’s hands faltered but she continued rubbing at the skin on his chest and stomach, avoiding his stitches as much as possible. Eliot couldn’t help but wince when she very gently swiped away dried blood and plasma. 

“I thought his feelings were a no-go.” She hummed, tilting her head and glancing up at him.

“He… I don’t know.” Eliot bit his tongue. He couldn’t tell Margo about Quentin’s offer. And he  _ definitely _ couldn’t tell her how he almost  _ agreed _ simply because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. “Christmas miracle?”

Margo squinted up at him. The ends of her hair were getting damp from the light spray that ricocheted from Eliot’s broad shoulders, but it also seemed to mist her eyelashes. She reached up and ran her nails through the fuzz on his chest, drawing a small chuckle from him.

“You can’t get blue balls over him right now, Eliot,” she said sharply, though her eyes were large and worried. “He’s dangerous, okay?”

Eliot sighed, an overwhelming need to cry clawing its way up his throat. He couldn’t hide it from her. There was no way. His lower lip wobbled a little and he forced a laugh to cover it and the threat of tears up.

“El, what happened?” Her fingers were in his hair again and he leaned into the touch like a cat. Margo took that as her cue to dispense shampoo into her palm and start lathering it into his curls.

“He--” Eliot closed his eyes to keep any stray shampoo from getting in. His brows knit together like he was concentrating. “He was trying to get me to go to Fillory with him.”

“And  _ what? _ ”

He exhaled heavily through his nose, “He was trying to persuade me to rule alongside him again--”

She hardened her gaze into an admonitory glare.

“But he doesn’t actually  _ want _ me there, Margo,” he laughed wetly, sniffling a little. Margo led his head back to rinse the grime and shampoo away. When Eliot was able to stand up straight again, he blinked away tears and stared miserably down at her. “He just wants someone who won’t tell him no.”

“And did you?” she reached up and stroked Eliot’s cheek.

He nodded sadly and hiccupped as a new wave of agony overtook him.

“Oh,  _ El _ ,” she whispered, urging him--with her hand on his shoulder--to hug her. He leaned down and rested his forehead on her shoulder. The strap of her bra bit into his skin.

He sobbed a little, “This bra is  _ really cute _ .”

Margo smiled to herself and rolled her eyes.

“Hey,” she murmured. “I know it was hard, but you told that motherfucker no, and I’m proud of you.”

Eliot grabbed for her and hooked his large hand on her shoulder, his body swaying slightly. Margo steadied him with her hands on his waist.

“What is it?”

“I really don’t feel well, Bambi.” Eliot replied with gravel in his voice.

“Okay, well, let’s condition your hair and then get dressed for Lipson.”

Julia felt sick to her stomach but in the moment she knew this was her only option to get him to get his shade back voluntarily. She turned when she heard feet shuffle against the scuffed, dull hardwood floor of the hallway. Margo was standing in the doorway, hands on her hips. She beamed at Julia.

“May I have some alone time with our  _ dear _ Q?” she asked. Julia knew it was more of a warning that Margo was about to eat her best friend alive.

“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Of course.”

Julia stood and exited the room, slipping past Margo on her way out. The former High King of Fillory stepped into Quentin’s room. Quentin’s jaw jumped and he kept facing forward so he wouldn’t look at her. She was in a very wet bra and underwear set.

“I’ll admit,” he tried joking. “This is the weirdest come on any girl has used on me.”

“Cut the shit, Coldwater.” Margo snapped, glaring a hole into his head. He turned his head slowly and stared up at her. She jutted her chin out and stared down at him, her eyes glistening.

“Why are you crying?”

“Why are you being an absolute fucking pain in everyone’s ass?” she retorted. Quentin’s eyebrows twitched questioningly. Margo wanted to smack him upside his fucking skull. “You  _ motherfucker _ .

“I get that you’re without a shade and shit, but  _ Jesus H. Christ _ …” Margo swiped her fingers under her eye hastily, nostrils flaring in rage. “Don’t you fucking dare break Eliot’s heart. You have  _ no _ \--absolutely  _ no fucking right _ to make him your little toy, Quentin.”

His eyes lit up as he realized what was happening. He lifted himself and readjusted his position to face her, opening his mouth in a silent laugh. He glanced away in thought and then jerked his head like a small nod.

“ _ Right _ ,” he smirked. “Because he didn’t wreck my shit?”

“That Monster B.S. was not his fault, Quentin.”

“First of all,” Quentin interrupted her, folding his hands neatly in his lap. “He shot the Monster so I would say it is his fault.”

Margo grit her teeth and pursed her lips, crossing her arms over her chest.

“ _ Second of all _ ,” Quentin stood up, raising his eyebrows as if he were debunking a theorem in math class. He stared down at her, lowing his voice to a deep murmur. “I’m talking about that cute little stunt he pulled where we lived an entire lifetime together, and then decided it wasn’t worth pursuing again.”

“ _ That’s _ what you’re pissy about?” she spat. “Quentin,  _ come on! _ This is highschool drama bullshit that you’re focused on!”

“I’m not focused on it.” Quentin shrugged, empty eyes boring into her. “But I know he is.”

Margo’s face contorted in fury. It took every ounce of willpower for her not to strangle the shit out of him right there. Quentin frowned down at her. He didn’t feel anything except annoyance at the woman. She couldn’t hurt him, and he knew that.

And so did she.

“Bambi?”

They both turned and saw Eliot in the doorway. He was barely dressed, standing in a pair of trousers with a towel hung around his shoulders. He looked pale and miserable.

“We need to go.” he gave her pleading eyes, which were not steady in their gaze. Quentin swallowed thickly, a surge of discomfort running up his spine.

“What’s going on--” he asked. “Where are you going?”

“ _ Starbucks _ .” Margo drawled with distaste, already turning and leaving. She ushered Eliot down the hallway and Quentin was left standing in silence. He ran a hand through his hair.

He really didn’t like what he was feeling.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait. I've been moving my space around, and this chapter just didn't have my full attention because my brain simply said: no <3
> 
> I do hope you all enjoy it though. Lots of relationship development of all sorts. :)

_ Julia shut the door as softly as she possibly could, holding the handle to it tightly for a moment and sucking in a tight breath. She exhaled slowly, and turned around. She jumped when she saw Margo still awake and thumbing through Julia’s copy of  _ The Yellow Wallpaper _ by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. Julia sighed out a small and nervous laugh. _

_ “I didn’t realize you were still awake.” She stated awkwardly. _

_ “Yeah, well,” Margo sat up and closed the book softly. Her lips were pulled tight into a look of distaste. “Sleep is the last thing on my mind right now.” _

_ Julia nodded, keeping to the edges of her room. She made herself busy by going through her closet as if she were picking an outfit out. After moments of a pregnant silence, her hands stilled and she turned around. She opened her mouth, ready to speak, but when she lifted her gaze to Margo, the woman had turned her back on Julia. _

_ Margo hung her head, sitting on the edge of the mattress. She dug her fingers into the sheets and shook with tension. Her shoulders shook softly. Julia immediately hurried over. _

_ “Hey, hey,” she crawled across the mattress to sit behind the other woman. Her hands lifted awkwardly but hung in the air. She didn’t want to upset Margo with unwanted contact. “Margo…” _

_ “I know he’s your best friend or whatever,” Margo’s voice was swollen with emotion. She wiped her wrist on her cheek, trying to rid herself of the evidence of her weakness. “But Quentin is a fucking  _ dick _.” _

_ She couldn’t help it. Julia smiled at that and simply sat back, “Yeah, he is. He may be my best friend but I acknowledge his bullshit.” _

_ “What happened while I was gone, Julia?” Margo finally looked at the ex-goddess. Her plum painted hip quivered, and those big, intense eyes were surrounded by a wet mess of tears and makeup. _

_ Julia knew exactly what she was actually asking. _

_ “Eliot was okay for a bit the first day you were gone--” _

_ “But?” _

_ “But,” Julia looked down at her hands and her eyebrows knit together as if she were in pain. “You’ve seen him. He’s not all there. And I don’t know if it’s about Quentin at all--” _

_ “Of course it’s about Quentin--” _

_ “No, Margo,” Julia held her hand up. They stared at one another, one storm against the other. Julia bit her lip and sighed. “Eliot had no control over his body for God knows how long. That’s trauma that wrecks a person--” she swallows the stress in her throat, “--and the fact that he wasn’t able to control what his body did to people?” _

_ Margo glanced to some point past Julia’s shoulder. Tears raced down her cheeks again as she processed the new development. She looked back up at Julia and pursed her wobbling lips, trying to restrain the woe escaping from her. _

_ “As soon as Quentin got back here though,” Julia continued her earlier explanation. “Eliot seemed to come back for a bit but just crumbled around Q.” _

_ “It’s because they love one another,” Margo sniffled. “But my idiot rejected your idiot.” _

_ Julia’s face twisted in confusion and Margo’s went up in surprise. _

_ “You never heard about their quest?” _

_ “No?” Julia said, indignation leaking into her tone. _

_ Margo’s throat worked down the lump in it and she sighed, “They were married, Julia.” _

_ The confusion only worsened on her face. _

_ “Listen,” Margo huffed. “It’s just stupid timey-wimey bullshit, but… To find the Time Key, they travelled to old Fillory to solve this puzzle; the Mosaic?” _

_ “The solution reflects the beauty of all life.” _

_ “I’m glad you remembered what it was, because I did not.” Margo sighed, cracking a tiny smirk. “Anyway, they stayed until it was solved and it wound up lasting...decades. Eliot’s only told me a few stories about it, but honestly, Julia, I didn’t need to. The way he looked when he talked about it…” _

_ She trailed off, letting the rest of the story hang in the air predictably. Julia watched her with understanding eyes and reached out to hold Margo’s hand. They squeezed one another’s hand. _

_ “So, Eliot rejected Q, when?” _

_ “I don’t know-- Eliot won’t talk too much about it but--” Margo exhales out of her nose, looking around. “The thing is...that whole thing was another timeline. And they somehow remembered it, and all Eliot would tell me is that when they did… Quentin wanted to be with El and he said no. I’m assuming it was some self-sacrificial bullshit out of fear…” _

_ “And then they--” _

_ “Were ripped apart, yeah.” _

_ Julia knew Eliot liked Quentin, and Quentin had indulged her curiosity enough for her to know that he had feelings for the other man. She didn’t realize the extent, however.  _ They truly had dumbass energy _. _

_ Margo sighed, staring at Julia with pleading eyes, “It’s selfish of me to say but… I miss Quentin, because I miss Eliot.” _

_ Julia smiled softly, “Don’t worry, I understand. We’re gonna figure this out.” _

Margo pushed Eliot through the doors of the infirmary, and straight to the front desk. The Healing student behind the desk recognized them and immediately walked around to meet them on the same side. He was clearly very alarmed by the state Eliot seemed to be in.

“I’ll go get Dr. Lipson,” the student stated, hurriedly walking off to find the doctor. Eliot sat limp in the chair, trying to focus on not puking--or something. Beads of sweat had collected on his forehead in the sun on the way to the infirmary, and they continued to collect when he was inside the cool building.

Margo pet his hair, getting impatient. She wondered when he had his last drink and if it were long ago enough for the confusion to set in and for his breathing to get short and panicky. She wondered how close he was to delirium tremens, and hoped that it was still a day or two a way.

Dr. Lipson rounded the corner, all business and poised to shine a pen light into Eliot’s eyes. He hated that. She examined his complexion and then looked up at Margo.

“Is he taking his medication?”

“It’s not-- He’s going through withdrawal.” Margo watched her. Lipson nodded with relief.

“Okay, I can treat that.” She sighed, standing up straight and waving Margo forward as she walked away. Margo pushed Eliot’s wheelchair and followed the petite woman into an exam room. Eliot was parked beside the exam table and Margo handed him a cardboard bedpan to puke into.

Dr. Lipson was quick in retrieving a cylindrical container from one of the cupboards and popping it open. Out slid a large minty green tablet. She glanced at the Healing student that had followed them into the room.

“We need an IV. Go get a bag of saline, and some primary tubing.” She ordered, kneeling in front of Eliot and pinching the tablet between her fingers. “Eliot, can you open your mouth please?”

Eliot knew how these worked. They tasted like candy while the body was detoxing but as soon as they were unneeded, they tasted like shit. Dr. Lipson had concocted them purely because this was still a college, after all. They were supposed to encourage a less brutal detox and allow the body to filter the alcohol out without the more severe symptoms.

He opened his mouth and felt the tablet placed onto his tongue. The familiar fizz tickled his tongue and he tasted green apples while sucking the rather large medication. It looked a lot like an electrolyte or glucose tablet, but tasted much better--until detox was over. They would at least allow Eliot to be out and about, and capable of walking without the fear that he may vomit or pass out.

By the time the tablet had fizzled out on his tongue, the Healing student returned with the supplies needed to rehydrate Eliot. He hated needles but grated his teeth and bared it, his exhausted eyes trained on Margo’s concerned face. When he could relax and he had adjusted to the feeling of the soft plastic cannula in his arm, Eliot melted into his wheelchair and grimaced at the pain in his abdomen.

Margo joined him and knelt beside him. She patted his hand lovingly and sucked in a tight breath, “We can’t keep doing this, El.”  
He glanced at her, knowing exactly what she meant. It made his stomach turn.

“Doing what?” Eliot asked dumbly.

“You know exactly what, asshole.” Margo scowled. He stared at her for a moment and then looked up at the ceiling.

He sighed heavily, “Bambi, I-I can’t--”

“ _ Eliot _ .”

He snapped his jaw shut, knowing he wouldn’t win this fight. He slid his eyes closed and watched the stars swirling behind his eyelids. The feeling of her small hand in his was grounding and he squeezed it gratefully.

“I know you can do it,” she tried. “But... _ this _ has got to stop.”

“It’s not gonna stick, Margo,” Eliot said, voice low and exhausted. He was tired of fighting. He wanted to get Quentin back and then just fuck off, saving everyone from whatever he would screw up next.

“Bull _ shit _ , Eliot.” Margo’s eyebrows twisted together in concerned frustration. Her voice dropped into that soft, low and sweet song that Eliot usually felt comfort from. “Do you  _ want _ to get better?”

_ Ouch, _ Eliot gulped,  _ that stung _ .

At the same time, however, he hated the fact that he didn’t have an answer for her. His brain swam with cognitive dissonance. On one hand, yeah; he was tired of almost dying and dealing with the comedown. On the other hand: this is what he had--this was the only stable comfort he had been given in life. People were usually pretty untrustworthy, so he couldn’t exactly rely on  _ them _ . The rational part of his brain argued, however, that if he applied himself he could change that and find people to trust.

All he could do was give Margo a pained look of confusion and fear. She flinched and squeezed Eliot’s hand, looking regretfully down at their fingers folded over each other. He reached up and pet her hair comfortingly, mustering the courage to make the promise he always feared making.

“We’ll figure this out, Bambi.”

Manhattan was bustling like usual, suit-clad individuals entering and exiting sub shops and cafes--probably discussing so-and-so’s big promotion. Construction sites littered the city, blocking off sidewalks or making metal tunnels to accommodate pedestrians’ trek to the next destination. Tourists strut past, pushing strollers of screaming children and lecturing teenager’s on the “ingenuity that New York City” was built on while said teenager played the newest incarnation of Flappy Bird or something.

Quentin glanced around, over-stimulated by the bullshit of it all. He followed Julia through crowds, which made him want to crawl out of his skin when his shoulder was inevitably knocked into by a pretentious stranger and his pretentious boyfriend. Whenever a car horn honked, he felt his blood boil and burn his insides.

“I hate everything about this, why couldn’t we just fast-travel there?” Quentin gritted his teeth, grabbing his best friend’s wool sleeve and keeping her close to his side. She seemed un-bothered and kept her brisk pace. A growl escaped him when he heard another vociferous cry of a toddler.

“I thought it would be nice to get out.” Julia glanced around, settling her eyes on a tall, abalone gray building about three or four blocks ahead of the corner they were waiting at. In true big city fashion, they began crossing the street with the rest of the crowd before the white person even blinked onto the crosswalk light. Quentin swallowed down his frustration.

“It’s not nice,” he grumbled, glancing around poisonously. “I want to claw my skin off, Jules.”

Her eyebrows jumped. Julia turned her head to look at him curiously.

“What’s setting it off?” She asked.

Quentin shrugged, avoiding her questioning gaze. When she turned her head back to watch where they walked, he answered, “I don’t know. It’s too loud and there are too many people?”

“Huh,” Julia’s lips quirked up in a tiny, teasing smile. “Even a shadeless Quentin Coldwater still has anxiety.”

Quentin wanted to kick her but couldn’t help the smirk that eventually climbed out from under his sulking. He had to admit, it was kind of silly in a way. He may not be amused for the same reasons as Julia, but he was amused nonetheless.

They kept walking in silence after that, and when they arrived at the apartment building, Quentin hurried in through the door as soon as the concierge unlocked it and opened it for the two. Julia apologized to the fellow for Quentin’s shoving and followed him to the elevators.

Kady’s penthouse was on the third to top floor, nestled across from the elevators and warded to the nines. Julia knocked on the front door, Quentin shoving his jacket off behind her. Penny opened the door and his eyes lit up when he saw Julia standing there.

“Julia, uh…” Penny smiled shyly and glanced about as if Quentin wasn’t standing there wrestling with his coat. “Good-- Um, Afternoon.” Penny nodded in greeting.

“You too.” Julia beamed at him and then thanked him when he held the door open for her. He did not repeat the welcoming gesture for Quentin, however, and the door nearly slammed in his face and clicked shut. Luckily he had enough reflex to jam his foot in the door. He glared pissily at Penny-23 as soon as he got inside the penthouse, carrying his rumbled jacket in his hand--one of the sleeves was turned inside out.

“Where’s Kady?” Julia asked, glancing around. Quentin studied the living room, suddenly feeling very exhausted and heavy. Every piece of furniture had a ghost sitting in it and it made his insides ache uncomfortably. Even thinking about what had happened made his stomach sick. Even if his mind had forgotten the feeling of it all, his body had not.

“She  _ was _ in the shower but I think I heard her get out not too long ago.” Penny glanced at the stairs. Julia followed his eyes only to see no one or nothing there. She glanced back at her best friend, who was shrinking into himself and looking around like everything was on fire.

She found it interesting how he reacted to the world without his shade versus how she had. She remembered feeling lighter and carefree. Quentin just seemed angry and resentful of everything, easily overwhelmed by stimulus. It was a curious situation, though, she assumed everyone probably had different experiences with it.

The sound of boots on the steps drew everyone’s attention to Kady, who was resting her hand on the railing. A thick pillow of gauze was still stuck to her temple, and she looked as confident and proud as she usually seemed lately. She continued her journey down the stairs and immediately hugged Julia upon reaching her. When Kady retreated, she gave Julia an appreciative smile.

_ Thank you _ , it said.

_ I will always support you _ , Julia’s said back.

They all got settled in the living room, Quentin tucking himself in one of the arm chairs further from everyone. He was not enjoying his time here. He was quiet, remembering snapshots of his time spent in this apartment.

“Alright,” Penny sighed with resignation. “So, as we have already asked ourselves millions of times: what do we do about Marina?”  
“Well, we need to figure out where exactly she’s working out of right now,” Julia pondered aloud. “And then subdue her and her minions, I guess.”

“How much are we betting that Pete is trying to become buddies with this Marina?” Kady asked. A lull in the conversation gave way to a sound like air being sucked out of a space, much like the pneumatic tubes of a bank.

“GOT JOB. NOW WHAT?”

They all eyed the rabbit huddled on the coffee table, it’s nose dancing in circles as it stared back at Kady.

“Those things...will never not wig me out.” Penny mumbled, eyes wide and focused on the lagomorph. Kady and Julia glanced at one another.

“GOT JOB. NOW WHAT?”

“Christ,” Kady huffed. “Should we tell her to just focus on the Marina issue right now?”  
Quentin relaxed a little at that.

Julia bit her lip in thought and then slowly nodded, “Yeah, that seems best.”

Kady nodded and scooped the messenger rabbit up, walking away and into another room for focus. Julia, Penny, and Quentin stayed quiet for a bit. Julia was the first to speak up.

“We need to figure out how to approach this.”

“Well, yeah,” Penny scoffed, too deep in thought to notice the face Julia makes--not angry nor pleased by the response.

When Kady returned, sans rabbit, she sat down and splayed her arms across the back of the sofa. They were all quiet again, thinking about the situation. There was a knock at the door, however, and the group exchanged confused and alarmed glances. Quentin sighed and stood, needing to get some uncomfortable energy out. He stretched earning a fear pops and cracks from his knees and hips.

“Q, what are you doing?” Julia turned, gripping the armrest of the couch like a scared little kid.

“Answering the door?” he answered with a monotone annoyance. He continued walking over to the front door and he had his hand on the knob when Julia piped up again.

“We don’t know who it is though.”

Quentin rolled his eyes and exhaled heavily, leaning closer to the door and calling: “Who is it?”

The clearing of a throat.

“ _ Postmates. _ ”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Margo said from the other side of the door. “Coldwater, open the fucking door.”

Quentin smirked and opened the door to Eliot and Margo, while giving Julia a pointed look. She halfheartedly glowered at the man while the duo entered the penthouse with...a lot of coffee. Margo held two cardboard cup carriers of Starbucks and Eliot had a carrier in his hand as well. His cane in the other

“Uh--” Kady gaped.

“Are we studying for finals or something?” Penny grinned incredulously. Eliot made a noise short of a chuckle.

“No, asshole,” Margo sneered. “We were in the area and didn’t know what people would like.”

Quentin knew exactly what he wanted as his eyes honed in on it.

“I’ll take the Caramel Ribbon Crunch Frappuccino.” he rattled off easily, staring at it like it was gold. Margo stared at him in shock. Julia just smiled to herself, remembering that it was the only drink Quentin ever got at Starbucks.

Eliot lowered a holder and offered it to Quentin. He plucked it up greedily and pulled the paper straw wrapper off of the straw before drinking it immediately. This was the most animated any of them had seen him being in the last few days.

“Don’t drink it so fast, Q,” Julia reflexively warned, twisting around in her seat to watch him while he made his way to the swiveling armchair Kady had placed near the windows. The man twisted back and forth, scowling at her while still drinking with challenging abandon. She sighed. “You’re gonna get jittery, dumbass.”

Everyone took what they wanted. Eliot got some hibiscus iced tea lemonade thing with no sugar in it, and Margo had a strawberry creme frappe. Everyone else wound up with whatever random mocha or tea that had been ordered and offered. Once they were all settled down again, they began discussing.

“Alice got a position at the Library,” Julia filled them in. “I told her to help us with the Marina situation for now.”

“Why not...Q?” Eliot’s brow furrowed his brows in irritation, tapping the head of his cane with a long finger. Quentin was staring at him from his slowly rotating chair, chewing on the green plastic of the straw. Eliot couldn’t tell if the sweating he felt now was from withdrawal or if it was from the uncomfortable attention he was getting.

“We are gonna need to get rid of the immediate danger first,” Kady answered. Eliot clenched his jaw and glanced at Julia harshly. An apology sat in her deep-set eyes.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm down, nodding in frustration.

“Okay,” he cleared his throat. “How will Alice be helping us?”

“She has access to stuff we don’t even know about,” Julia shook her head and shrugged. “And now she can also get librarians fighting for our safety, if she plays her cards right.”

“ _ If _ .” Margo arched a brow and rested her hand on her hip.

“Just,” Julia sighed. “Give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“Oh, there is a lot of doubt.” Margo nodded.

They continued to discuss the situation until they ran out of ideas.

“Honestly, why don’t we just  _ kill _ her?” Quentin asked boredly, still spinning his chair and playing with the straw of his drink. He looked up at their shocked and horrified faces.

“ _ Quentin _ ,” Penny gestured in a  _ what the fuck _ manner. “Come on, dude.”

The other man raised his eyebrows, “ _ What? _ ”

“Quentin,” Eliot snapped. Quentin looked up at him, still with a defensive look. Eliot closed his own eyes and sighed heavily. “Just drink your frappuccino.”

The man frowned and twisted his chair around to turn away from them and pout. Another heavy silence as they brain stormed. Margo made a small noise and waved her hand a little, trying to swallow the sip she had just taken without choking on it in her excitement. Everyone’s eyes are on her.

“I fucking detest the idea but,” she looked around quite nervously. “Quentin might be on to something.”

“What.” Kady squinted.

Margo sighed in annoyance.

“ _ In Fillory, _ ” she groaned, Eliot’s eyes glimmering with realization. “There’s this thing where two rulers basically fight to the death in order to stop any war between the states.”

“This isn’t Fillory.” Kady deadpanned.

Julia held her hand up, “I-I think it’s worth a try to at least bargain with Marina.”

“This is gonna get us  _ killed _ , Jules.” Kady snapped.

“We need to at least  _ try _ , Kady.” Julia retorted.

They stared intensely at one another before Kady finally slumped back in surrender, crossing her arms over her chest.

“ _ Fine _ .” She grumbled. “But, we wait until Alice gets backup before making any moves to challenge Marina.”

Julia nodded, glancing around at everyone’s grim faces as if they just got lectured by their parents. None of them liked the idea, but it was the only viable choice at the moment.

_ God, she hoped this worked. _

They had take-out at Kady’s place and then everyone said their goodbyes and headed off. Penny stayed at the penthouse as makeshift security. Everyone else went back to Brakebills, Margo planning on going back to Fillory. However, when they got back, Margo pulled Eliot aside. She had that sad  _ I need my El _ look.

“Bambi,” he cooed down at her, cupping her cheek and knitting his brows together in concern. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t--” She hugged him tight. “Eliot, I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“Oh,” Eliot murmured. “I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“El, you could have died today…”

He gulped and looked away in shame, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“What were you thinking drinking that much?” Margo’s lip quivered.

_ Because I’m nothing but a useless addict, _ he wanted to say. He knew that wasn’t exactly the answer she was asking for.

“It just...hurts, Margo.” That’s all he could say without absolutely unravelling.

She didn’t reply, just buried her face into him. Eliot cringed at the way she pressed into his wounds, but Dr. Lipson had re-applied bandages once he had rehydrated that morning so there was some cushioning luckily.

“I would come home with you but…” Eliot glanced around at the Cottage. At the chair on the fucking ceiling, the bottles like stained glass at the bar, the actual stained glass of the windows… “Right now, this is home. I need to be here for now.”

“For Quentin.” She corrected, looking up at him all doe eyed and raw. He smiled a bit gratefully at the acceptance she had for his choice.

“For Quentin.” He confirmed.

Margo sniffled, hardening again but not letting go of her best friend.

“I’ll kill him if he hurts you, hear me?” she smiled. “And if you die, I’m burying you in Gucci.”

Eliot smacked his tongue and gasped scandalously, “You  _ wouldn’t _ .”

They grinned at one another and for a moment, everything felt better. Everything felt good again. The Cottage was filled with warmth and colour.

Eliot kissed her nose, “Love you, Bambi. I’ll be safe.”

She pecked his cheeks and then his lips, “I love you too. I’ll be kickass.”

“As always,” he beamed down at her, placed his hand on the back of her head and pulled her in for another hug. His nose pressed into the top of her head when he kissed it long and lovingly.

After some more satisfying goodbyes, Margo left Eliot in the hall and went to travel home. Julia crept around the corner, shy and looking ashamed.

“Sorry,” she looked at the floor. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, I just wanted to check in. I didn’t want to interrupt you guys though…”

She twisted a ring on her finger nervously, and Eliot smiled sympathetically at her. He reached out and gently held her wrist.

“I appreciate that.” He said to her softly.

“Can we talk?” Julia asked. “About Quentin?”

Eliot shifted his weight and grunted. His arm was starting to lock up from leaning on his cane. He chuckles a little apologetically, “Can we sit down?”

“Oh, um, yeah, sure!” Julia helped him to the couch and sat down with him. She apologized. Eliot swatted at the air to silence her.

“Anyway…” he prompted.

Julia gave him a n anxious look, “I made a deal with Quentin.”

That didn’t bode well in Eliot’s head. He lifted his eyebrows and gaped at her.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, um,” Julia swallowed, her mouth dry. “He promised to help us search for his shade.”

Eliot perked up: “Oh!”

“ _ If _ I let him have the choice of taking it back out if he wanted to, like a test run.”

“ _ Oh _ .” His voice dropped and so did his heart.

“It was the only way I could get him to help us,” she exhaled what seemed like the impending doom of tears. “I’m sorry, Eliot. My end of the deal is not to try to stop him from taking it out.”

“Julia,” he placed his hand gingerly on her shoulder. “It’s okay. We’ll figure out a loophole.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School started and so has the Autumn blues, so this was super challenging to get done. <3 I'm determined not to abandon this baby though.

_ My dearest Bambi, _

_ It’s been roughly two months since you left. Just letting you know in case twenty years has passed over there for you--please don’t be twenty years older when you come back; not because you wouldn’t be gorgeous (you would), but I’m not (nor will I ever be) in the mood to see you die before me. That would be kind of awkward, if not absolutely heartbreaking. _

_ Lipson gave me the okay to move around without any sort of mobility aid last week. It’s kind of weirdly exhausting not having something to lean on all the time--I expected it to be easier not having to hold up all of my body weight on that thing. Oh well, such is life; contradicting itself every moment of every day. _

_ I miss you. _

_ I’ve been a good boy, FYI. I haven’t been drinking too much (by my standards, obvi). I’ve got a tube of tablets on hand just in case, but I’ve been doing fine. Julia has been a darling and helped me distract myself when I need it. She’s been encouraging me to cook more, and sometimes we all eat at the dinner table together. _

_ Julia has been growing her powers each day, and it’s kind of astounding how scarily powerful she has gotten in such a small amount of time. When we first began, she could only make little sparks with her hands, but now she’s making it snow in the house and shit. Of course, there’s also the baby tree she grew in the courtyard by the Sea--but that was more like a first cast in a way, wasn’t it? _

_ We’ve been working with Alice Quinn in researching how to get Q’s shade back. She’s been pleasantly cooperative. We haven’t been fighting or anything, just a little tension some days but it hasn’t stopped us from working together harmoniously or whatever. She seems a little less like she’s gonna spontaneously combust, like she’s not so anxious. I think it was a good idea for her to get away from everything here. _

_ She got a position at the Library. She’s the Junior Ambassador or something, and Zelda appointed her Head Librarian in training. So, I guess she’s under an apprenticeship for a bit. That’s pretty spectacular. (In my opinion, at least.) _

_ Quentin seems to be doing pretty okay, for being without a shade, I mean. He’s not fighting everyone every second of the day, which is nice. He’s easier to be around, for me personally, because he’s not being a complete ass all the time. He’s still flirting with me which is...frustrating. (How am I supposed to deal with THAT, Margo? He’s too powerful without a shade!) Julia has been allowing him to use his magic every couple of days now, and he’s cooperating and hasn’t killed anyone or anything yet. Not purposefully, at least. (One of Todd’s houseplants did not survive a particular entropy co-op cast that Julia and Q did…) _

_ Outside of those updates, everything is going as well as they can be. Kady is still leading the Hedge community pretty well with minimal hiccups. Penny has been her acting security guard, I guess. He’s doing really well too. Julia and him keep flirting? So, I guess they’re a thing or close to being a thing? Otherwise, he seems pretty happy, in my opinion. Finding his footing or whatever, and while he and Julia are being lovey at one another, he’s not constantly attached to her anymore. _

_ I miss you. Tell Fen and Josh I say hello and miss them. I miss you more though. I love you, Margo. Please come visit soon. I need my Bambi. _

_ Yours, _

_ Eliot _

He sighed long and heavily, leaning back in his desk chair and scrubbing his hands down his face. Eliot kept his eyes closed for a moment and when he opened them, he looked down at the paper under his pen. He really hated his messy-ass handwriting.

The past two months had been pretty uneventful outside of the occasional attempt on Kady’s life, but Penny swore up and down he had it under control. Eliot didn’t exactly doubt it, but he did know that he wasn’t the only one out of his group of friends to stretch the truth a little in order to spare the others any unnecessary or undeserved concern. He chewed the inside of his cheek in thought and then slowly pushed himself up out of his desk chair.

The scar tissue on his abdomen still burned when he moved but there was no threat of ripped stitches or opening of wounds anymore. He could change his shirts on his own again, and when he took pain killers he could put on and lace up his shoes. He didn’t need his cane anymore unless he was leaving campus and traipsing about New York City, but he didn’t have the energy or desire to do so.

He would say things were going as well as they possibly could be at the moment. He just missed Margo. He didn’t like being lonely, and right now he was feeling pretty lonely. He missed his first years at Brakebills when he and Margo were pretty much attached at the hip. Yet, now she had a whole other world to call home and help Fen run. Eliot didn’t know the current agreement surrounding that situation, but he knew that his wife (?) had welcomed Margo home with open arms and security.

The descent down the Cottage stairs was much easier. A nerve had been struck by the Ice Axes, however, which left the phantom pang of a pinching feeling when his hip moved in a way that the rest of his body disagreed with. Eliot winced but pressed on, steadying himself at the bottom of the steps.

Alice and Julia lounged in the Cottage’s library, talking in low tones. Upon seeing Eliot, Alice smiled and stood up. They hugged one another in greeting, which probably would not have happened a year or two ago. It was comforting now, and it blew the tension out of Eliot’s shoulders as he buried his face in the woman’s blonde hair. Alice always smelled like summertime underneath all that cheap green apple conditioner. The faint smell of sunshine and wheat was still there. It reminded Eliot of the more desirable childhood memories; most of them being with his mother.

“Good morning,” Alice smiled tightly at the tall man.

“Is it morning for you?” Eliot responded with a soft chuckle. “It’s only been, what, five hours for you since you were last here?”

“Roughly.” Alice shrugged, taking a seat at the head of the makeshift conference table in the rather large nook of the Physical Kids’ Cottage. Eliot sat beside her, across from Julia.

“We’re just waiting for Kady and Penny.” Julia tapped the table absentmindedly. The more magic she relearned and the stronger it got, the more she seemed to radiate. Eliot thought it was marvelous and couldn’t help but smile to himself when the thought struck him.

“Did Q eat breakfast?” He asked curiously. Eliot made breakfast again that morning, leaving out a buffet style spread in the kitchen for people to nosh as they woke up while he got ready and wrote his letter.

“Yeah, he had french toast and sausage,” Julia nodded. “Thank you for breakfast, by the way.”

He glanced at Alice, who suddenly seemed like she felt out of place.

“You’re free to get something, if you want.” He offered. “If my memory serves, it should all still be at least a little warm with the cast I did.”

“I’m okay, thank you.” She smiled half-heartedly. Her attention directed back to Julia. “Is he going to be joining us?”

Julia sighed, “I sure hope so.”

“Did something happen?”

She smiled and gave Alice a knowing look. Eliot had no idea what the look said but Alice seemed to interpret it immediately. He’d be lying if he denied being curious, but he refused to pry. He was too exhausted to pry, in all honesty.

“Eliot,” Alice prompted. He glanced at her curiously. “How are you?”

That was the last thing he imagined hearing from her. Eliot’s lip twitched and he looked down, twisting his ring. What exactly was she expecting him to say? He knew it wasn’t a trick question or anything, and they weren’t being hostile to one another. He just never knew how to answer  _ that _ .

“I’m okay.”

Alice’s blue eyes drilled in to him and he added a less than sincere smile. She smiled back with concern and then stood up, saying something about the breakfast he had left out. Eliot didn’t watch her leave, but Julia did, and then stared at him when Alice was out of earshot.

“It’s okay, Eliot,” she reached out and patted his hand, interrupting his fidgeting. “We’re gonna figure this all out. It’s gonna be okay.”

“I know--” he swallowed. He looked away and pulled his hand back, eyebrows furrowing. “I--It’s hard to imagine it being completely okay, Julia.”

“I know.”  
“We manage to fix things, sure, but…” Eliot looked intensely up at the ex-goddess. “What will it cost us this time? It was almost Q’s life--what now? What is there left to take away if not just one life?”

Julia stared back at him, swallowing down her own panic. She licked her lips and drew in a grounding breath. She had no reply for that. Instead she just blinked at him, sad adoration filling her eyes.

“I know, El,” she sighed. “Let’s just...focus on this for now.”

He knew she was right. There was no point in worrying before it was actually due. Eliot couldn’t help it though. He jumped a little when a purple mug of fresh coffee was set in front of him.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, twisting around to look at Alice. “You didn’t have to do tha--”

It was Quentin.

He was standing behind Eliot with a wide smile on his face and his own mug of coffee in his hands. His hair was starting to get long and wispy on his neck and behind his ears and it filled Eliot with some warm fondness. He stared at Quentin, eyes dancing every which way--crinkled eyes to cat-like grin to his chest and then back up.

“Uh--hey” is all Eliot could manage before turning back around, avoiding Julia’s small smirk. He stared down at the coffee, made just the way he liked it; no creamer--black with probably a metric ton of sugar in it.

“Morning.” Quentin responded, sitting at the head of the table--opposite Alice’s seat. Eliot took a sip of the coffee and promptly burnt the shit out of his mouth. Quentin cleared his throat. “Thanks for breakfast this morning, Eliot.”

“Mhm.” He nodded jerkilly. He was grateful when Alice chose that time to return, wiping her hands dry with a paper towel.

“Kady should be here any minute--”

“I’m here.”

The four of them focused on the dining room where Kady and Penny were walking from. They must have travelled. When they got to the library nook, Penny tapped at Eliot’s shoulder.

“Scoot over--I don’t wanna sit next to your boyfriend.”

A breath caught in Eliot’s throat and he froze. He glanced at Quentin who was trying to hold back a snicker, then at Julia who covered her mouth, and finally at Alice who looked cautiously back at him. Eliot and Alice held each other's stare for what felt like an hour, but was actually a few moments.

“I said  _ move _ .”

Eliot stood up and followed Penny’s instructions, taking the empty chair that had kept some space between Quentin and him. Penny mumbled his thanks. Eliot looked at Quentin for a second, wondering what he could possibly be thinking. Quentin just smiled at him, lips curling at the corners.

It took barely any time for the group to get into planning and updates.

“With some digging,” Alice gestured over the table, a tut that Eliot didn’t remember. Then again, there was an infinite amount of shit to learn at all times. The surface of the table illuminated with glowing lines and crossroads--a map of the Boroughs. “I was able to find a few places Marina _might_ be hiding.”  
Three cerulean markers sparkled to life above the table. One was in Brooklyn, and two in Manhattan. The small blue lights beat like slow heart beats. Something about them must have shocked Julia and Kady because they glanced at one another in alarm.

“Right there--” Kady pointed at one of the Manhattan markers. “Is that the old Hedge market--the Black Market?”

“Maybe, let me…” Alice changed her hand positions, concentrating as the map dissolved and pulled up a closer map of the marker in question. “I-I’m not sure. It’s heavily warded.”

“It’s gotta be.” Kady scrunched her nose, leaning in to observe it a little closer. The map dissolved again, but didn’t reappear. Alice glanced around apologetically when Kady glared up at her.

“Sorry, I’m still working on this spell.” She shrugged and shook the cramping out of her hands. “Um, what next?”

“We invite Marina for a duel.” Julia answered, looking around at everyone.

New York City’s winters were always cold. It didn’t bother Eliot, until he was walking it it. His cane already seemed wobbly in the areas that were snowy, and the cold was flaring up the pain in his joints. The wind was whipping his scarf across his face repeatedly, and he could only imagine what his hair looked like.

“I’m gonna freeze my tits off,” he spat at no one in particular. “Tell me again why  _ we _ have to go?”

“Because Marina isn’t trying to actively kill you, and because I guess I am kind of an authority figure now?” Alice burrowed further into the lining of her coat. Her nose was getting endearingly pink.

Moments of silence passed. The sound of passing cars and the wind were the only sounds to fill the gap. Their shoes crunched the bit of snow on the ground, leaving imprints behind them.

“Nothing is going on between Q and I.” Eliot broke the silence, staring straight ahead. Alice snapped her head up to stare at him. “I mean--when Penny made that joke.”

“Yeah--I got that.” Alice bitterly replied. Eliot sighed. “It’s not really any of my business if there is anything going on.”

“I just--” Eliot looked at her. “I’m bad at this, okay? I was just trying to reassure you. Check-in, I guess.”

Alice was quiet again, obviously thinking about what he had said. She exhaled a large breath, the vapor forming in the air in front of her.

“I appreciate it, Eliot.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye with a small smirk. “I’m as okay as I can be.”

He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I won’t be angry at you if something does happen between you and Quentin,” Alice continued. Suddenly the cold was seeping out from Eliot’s bones instead of through his jacket. “I also wouldn’t be surprised.”

He huffed a nervous chuckle, “Oh, really?”

“He loves you.”

Eliot gave her a horrified look.

“And it’s evident--even without his Shade--you’re the object of his affection.”

He didn’t like how naturally she said it. It sounded wrong and scary, like she had rehearsed a lie in front of the mirror ceaselessly--until she could say it to him like this. Eliot slid his hands out of his coat pockets and patted them, scowling when he realized he hadn’t brought his flask with him.  _ Shit _ .

He was really not in the mood to process shit right now.

“I’m tired of being angry.” Alice stated. Eliot looked at her in surprise. They rarely actually  _ opened up  _ to one another. The planets must have been out of alignment or something-- Eliot shook his head at the joke. With the way the world worked these days, it was a possibility and he could have just prophesied Pluto hurtling toward Earth.

Oh, how  _ surprising _ that would be.

“That’s reasonable.” Eliot replied, not quite knowing what else he could say.

“This should be it.”

Alice stopped in front of a building and Eliot brought himself to a halt behind her, glancing up. It looked like a regular abandoned building, but they both knew better.

Marina was waiting for them as soon as they got inside.

“Ah, Stitchfix and the Bombshell Bland.” She smiled, putting her hands on her hips. Eliot rolled his eyes at the jab and leaned on his cane. A gaggle of hedge witches lounged behind Marina, watching closely.

Alice glanced up at Eliot nervously and shifted for a moment before stepping forward, “W-we’re here on behalf of Kady.”

“Oh.” A look of revulsion crossed Marina’s sharp features and she crossed her arms. “To what do I owe the displeasure? Are you her minions now?”

“Oh, please. The only way I would bake overalls look good is if I were one of the Village People.” Eliot grimaced. Alice shot him a look before twisting back around and shaking hair out of her face and straightening up.

“Kady challenges you to a duel.”

Marina laughed, unfolding her arms and actually slapping at her thigh.

“And let me guess--she’s fighting for her honor or some regency bullshit?” She cackled. When Eliot and Alice didn’t laugh, her own snickering died down. “Oh, you’re  _ serious _ .

“Fine.” Marina frowned, turning and swaggering to a table pushed against the wall where a set of glasses and a decanter sat. She poured herself about two fingers and then sipped at it before addressing them again. “Where and when?”

“Uh--” Alice glanced at Eliot.

He cleared his throat and waltzed his way to stand beside the small blonde.

“Here.” His lips twitched in a faux smile for only a second, but long enough to get the message across. “And let’s do fourteen days from now.”

“Wow, you have to be so pretentious that you can’t just say  _ two weeks? _ ” Marina tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. Eliot mustered the bitchiest face he could and shot it back at her in response, earning a small laugh from her.

“ _ Apologies. _ ” He sneered. “See you in a  _ fortnight _ .”

Marina smiled bitterly at him, “Toodles.”


End file.
